


The Lady's Answered Prayers

by Firstofhiskind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9620927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firstofhiskind/pseuds/Firstofhiskind
Summary: Lyanna Stark has prophetic dreams that lead her to the heart of her world's dilemma.





	

_“You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert. You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath.” – Ned Stark_

**A New Friend**

Lyanna Stark pulled up the destrier she had been galloping just before the grove broke into a small meadow. The horse was lathered and panting hard after the ten-minute gallop and Lyanna herself was winded. She had been practicing cavalry combat with an old tourney sword she had borrowed from her brother. The ride and the combat practice had helped calm her. She had found her father Lord Rickard’s betrothal of her to Robert Baratheon, the lord paramount of the Stormlands, without a word to her in advance, unsettling.

Robert was handsome enough, and could be polite, but his beard was rough and his touch clumsy. Conversation made it clear enough he was expecting a proper Westerosi lady for his wife, and not a woman who would sooner hop on a horse and ride into battle alongside her man. And the stories! The man jumped from bed to bed as if he was frightened of what was in each one. And the babe in the Vale! “I expect it was not his first,” she thought to herself, and sighed.

This was so unlike her father, and the harshness with which he met her protests afterward frightened her a little, even though she was nearly a woman grown. Lyarra her mother had pointed to her duty as a lady of House Stark, and had slapped her when she repeated what she had heard about Robert’s bedroom adventures and about the girl in the Vale he had fathered.

Her brother Ned, a close friend of Robert’s from their years of fostering together in the Vale, told her Robert loved her and would be a loyal husband. Her older brother’s continued naivete still made her smile. “Love is sweet, dear Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature,” she had told him. And Brandon had been no better than Father in what he said, though he was far kinder in how he said it.

Perhaps to make up for her upset, Brandon had taken her aside numerous times on their journey south so she and he could practice jousting and other combat skills. “Lyanna, you are far more dangerous than many men,” he told her, two days before they arrived at Harrenhall. Little Brother Benjen of course had said he would carry her off to Braavos if need be, to save her from a marriage she could not abide. Poor Benjen. Such a brave heart. But he was only 12, and Robert already was known as one of the foremost young warriors in the Seven Kingdoms.

She could not understand why her father wanted her to marry a Southron lord anyway, and why was Brandon marrying Catelyn Tully the elder sister of the heir to the Riverlands? It seemed like even Ned was going to be promised to a Southron lady. She smiled again. Benjen at least was too young to be threatened with such a fate just yet, sold off like cattle at a country fair.

Of a sudden she heard a shout. Curious, she walked her mount closer to see if she could make it out. “Damned frogeater!” “Worthless little swamp rat!” “Go home you piece of pond scum!” She emerged from the trees and saw 30 feet ahead in the clearing, three young men in squires’ livery kicking a smaller man or boy who was on the ground curled up, trying to protect himself. She squinted to see better and in a moment realized what sort of person the three boys’ victim was.

Immediately she spurred her mount, raised the tourney sword and began shouting, “Get off of him, blast you! That’s my father’s man you are attacking! Get off of him! Now!” she swung the flat of her sword at the first young man, who was wearing pitchfork livery and knocked him flat. The other two, one wearing porcupine livery and the other the two towers of House Frey, wide eyed, turned and ran. She rapped each of them a smart blow with the sword as they went. The fellow she had knocked over scrambled to his feet and ran off in the other direction.

Lyanna walked the horse over over to the small man, who was lying on the ground moaning, as much from humiliation as from any injuries, she thought. She dismounted and knelt beside him. “My lord, you are bit the worse for wear, I fear.” She smiled.

He looked at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m a wolf maid,” she told him. Then he saw her direwolf pin. “You’re young Lady Stark. Lord Rickard’s daughter. My lord father told me you had more than a little of the wolf in you, and he told more true than even he knew I think.”

“Sit up,” she said. She got hold of a waterbag she had at her hip, undid the spout and poured some into his mouth. “Here. Let me get you cleaned up,” she said. She stood up, reached into one of her saddlebags, and brought out a few strips of linen. One she wetted from the waterbag and cleaned out his cuts. She used the other strips to bind up two or three of the worst ones. “Can you walk, my lord,” she asked.

“I can,” he replied. “Thank you ever so much, Lady Lyanna. For taking care of me and for saving me. I’ve marked those young men well, and will have my revenge later. I don’t fight so well when taken by surprise. We are not accustomed to such badly behaved boys in the Neck.” She saw he had a knife at his belt. He looked around and picked up off the grass a short spear with three tines. “We all carry these," he told her. "They are wonderful for spearing frogs or fish.”

“You still need more care, my lord,” she said. “I’m taking you back to my lair.”

“Will I be eaten by the wolves I find there?” said the little Crannogman with a grin, for that is what he was; a man of the people who inhabit the marshes on the Neck that separates the Kingdom of the North, where Lyanna’s father ruled, from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Not bloody likely,” chuckled Lyanna. "They are my father and my brothers and they will love to break bread with you. Come on.” When he nodded, she grabbed her horse’s rein and began walking with the young man back the way she came.

“Your name, my lord?” she asked as they began walking. “Howland of House Reed,” he replied. “my lady,” he added. At this Lyanna let out a short laugh. “And as you know I am Lyanna Stark. Eldest, and sadly, only, daughter of Lord Rickard, your lord and mine,” she said with a wink. “But now I command you to call me Lyanna, and I insist on calling you Howland, for I feel we are going to be great friends. Well met, Howland Reed.”

“Well met, Lady Stark, I mean Lyanna,” he said with an embarrassed grin. At this she grinned right back. “So tell me, Howland; I know your people put little stock in knighthood and tourneys, so what is it that brings you far from the Neck and deposits you right in the middle of the grandest tourney in at least 100 years?”

“I spent the last six months at the Isle of Faces,” he said.

“You did? I thought people were not allowed to go there; that it isn’t safe. Is the isle not where the green men live?”

“It is,” he said. “It was the green men with whom I wished to visit. And for people who understand what is there, the isle is perfectly safe.”

At this Lyanna’s eyes got wide. “Are you a mage?” she asked.

“I am versed in magic, my lady, I mean Lyanna, but I am no mage.”

“Do you know about the dreams that come true, Howland, the green dreams?”

“I do not have such dreams, but some of my family do, and many others among our people. We are more faithful to the old ways than all but a very few of the people in the North, and we do study the old prophecies.”

Lyanna stopped short. It was not only her forced betrothal that was troubling her. For weeks, she had been having a persistent and very strange dream, a dream that caused her tremors of fear. Sometimes she would get out of bed and pace the hall outside her chamber for what seemed like hours before she could fall asleep. Sometimes she would lie abed with her arms about herself shivering. Lyanna took great pride in the fact she was frightened of almost nothing. When she was 12, she had killed a bull elk with a hunting knife, an elk that was menacing Ned after his horse had thrown him, and he was lying unconscious on the ground. Brandon had looked at her with amazed eyes before both of them knelt down to tend to Ned.

But this dream was like no other and terrified her. She would be galloping a war horse like the one she was leading now through a wood. And then in an instant it would be winter. The sudden cold would cut right through her. No matter how many times she dreamed it, the pain of the cold was the same. And then she would see, coming from the north, from the direction of the giant wall at the far edge of the northern kingdom, there marched an army all of ice. No matter how fast she galloped the horse, the army would get closer and closer and closer. Then there would be fire in the air, she would hear a baby crying, and the army of ice would stop moving. Always she felt a fierce love for this baby, a love that hurt her more than the cold and pain and fear from the rest of the dream.

It would have been foolish to share the dream with Ned, Brandon, or their father and mother. Those four always rolled their eyes at her whenever she began talking about the old gods, or the feelings she got whenever she came nigh the giant weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood, or when she would talk about the spirits of their ancestors she would feel close by her down in the giant castle’s crypts. Old Nan understood these things, and so over time she fell out of talking to her elders about them. But when she told her old nurse about the dream, Nan’s eyes got wide and she hurried away muttering to herself. She seemed more frightened than Lyanna.

And now here was a man of the Crannogs, a son of that people’s lord, a man with a kind face and wise eyes, a man steeped in magic and the Old Gods, who had been to the very Isle of Faces, the place that once had been the center of the Old Gods’ way. He had spent six months talking to the mysterious green men, whom Old Nan had told her were death to approach. She might never have a better chance to talk to someone who could explain to her her dream, and would not be afraid to do so. She did not yet know him well, but she would have to take the chance.

She looked carefully at Howland. “I am not frightened of very much, my lord, but I am having a dream like this, and it frightens me terribly. If I told you this dream, would you be able to explain?”

“I could try,” he said. “Please tell me, my lady.” She then recited the dream in every detail.

Howland stared at her and searched her face. “Lady Stark, that is a green dream and I fear for you, because dreams like this do not lie.

“We on this continent play our games of power and preferment as if there is nothing more important in the world. But my people know the old tales, and they know there is a war to come. If mankind were to lose this war; it would not be another Long Night; it would be a night that never ends. Your dream says the war is coming soon, and mankind can be saved because of a child you bear. The fire in your dream tells me dragonfire will be needed, but the dragons all are dead.

“I think after this tourney is over you should visit my family at Greywater Watch, our seat, so those of us who truly are sages can sit with you and find the full truth of your dream.”

“I am more frightened than ever, Howland, but I will ask my lord father if I may do so. I think your lord father may be overdue a visit from one of us Starks, so I think I can persuade Lord Rickard to say yes, and to assign my little brother Benjen as my chaperone.

“My father, my mother, and my brothers Brandon and Ned say the old tales are so much silliness, but they are wrong. I see things. I feel things people are thinking sometimes. I have listened to the stories Old Nan (our old nurse) has told us, and to me they ring true. The trees seem to speak to me sometimes. I keep the old gods. There is more to this world than what the maesters say, but those four are just pigheaded on the matter. Politics, though, my lord father does understand. He will say yes.”

“Very well then,” replied Howland. They continued in silence for a little while, thoughtful. They made small talk of their highjinks among their siblings. Howland talked about how knights could come into the marshes, but if they were not invited they would not come out again. “Since we swore allegiance to your family, you have respected us and our lands, and that is why our loyalty continues strong,” he said.

“No one uninvited even can find Greywater Watch, or my people’s other keeps,” he continued. “But you and your family always are welcome. It makes my father sad Lord Rickard never has visited.”

“Perhaps I should bring him, too,” Lyanna smiled.

“Perhaps. From what you say of him, he would not think much of your dream.”

“You’re right Howland. I think he is caught up in this game of power you talk about,” said Lyanna. “He and Brandon and Ned.”

“We are loyal fighters, and always will stand with House Stark,” said Howland, “But with this we cannot help.”

“You are helping,” said Lyanna. “You and our soldiers at Moat Cailin have protected all of us in the North for generations. I know my father is grateful for this.”

Howland smiled. “Still it might be best if only you and your younger brother come visit us this time.”

Lyanna smiled in response. “Very well, my lord … Howland … I will ask.”

In a few minutes’ more they were at the Stark tents. A large banner with a white direwolf’s head on a background of blue fluttered above the largest.  As they approached the tent, a young groom appeared and took the reins of Lyanna’s destrier. He smiled as he touched his forelock and Lyanna smiled in return. "Treat him well, Harwin” she said. “I worked him quite hard.”

“Of that I am certain, m’lady,” replied Harwin. “My ‘da, he will understand. He says you ride better than any man.”

“My thanks, Harwin,” Lyanna replied. She and Howland approached the tent. “My lair,” she announced with a grin. They entered the tent, and in it were scattered furnishings of rustic but comfortable design. The floor was scattered with wolf and bear pelts. Seated at a table near the center of the room were a handsome well-muscled man with dark brown hair, a neatly cut beard, and flashing gray eyes, while across from him was a brown-haired shy youth, clean shaven with soft-seeming blue eyes. In a corner was an animated boy of about 12, with hair color that matched Lyanna’s.

She smiled at Howland, and said, “May I present my pack, the wolves of Winterfell. This tall one, the wild wolf is our acknowledged leader, subject only of course to our lord father, my brother Brandon, heir to the North." Brandon smiled and nodded. "The one next to him, the quiet wolf, thinks deeply and is quite wise, his brother’s counselor, Ned Stark." Ned smiled brightly and his eyes shone. "Over there is the cub, my baby brother Benjen." Benjen came over and gave his sister a warm embrace. “Who is this handsome fellow you have found?"

Lyanna said, “This is Howland Reed, elder son and heir to Greywater Watch."

“Well met, my lords,” said Howland, looking weary and sore.

“Well met, Lord Howland,” said Brandon. “He looks like he's been in a bit of a fight, Lyanna.”

“I found him tangling with some squires and helped him put them to rights,” she replied, “But they did some damage, I’m afraid, before I came upon them. Is there a pallet I could put him on so I can patch him up?”

“Use mine, Lyanna,” said Ned, and pointed behind the nearest partition. Behind it there was a sparsely furnished room with a bed, a small table, and a travelling trunk. Lyanna led Howland to it and her brothers followed. She went to work on him and quickly the full story came out of how the young Crannogman had been set upon by the squires, and how Lyanna had come charging out of the woods on her destrier like a warrior goddess out of some tale, and had set the squires to rout.

“I marked out their colors and I will have my revenge,” said Howland.

“If you like, I could find you some armor that would fit,” said Benjen.

“My thanks Benjen. I think not,” said Howland. “I know little enough of horsemanship and absolutely nothing about tilting. I do not dare disgrace my people. I shall have to wait for a better time.”

“Where is Father?” asked Lyanna. “Perhaps he could speak to the squires’ masters.”

“A messenger came for him,” replied Brandon. “He read the scroll and left the tent with a dark look on his face. He sent the messenger back with word he will see us at the banquet.”

“Very well then,” said Lyanna. “The matter of revenge will have to wait.” Benjen brought her a large bowl of water and Ned found some linen strips. She began washing Howland’s scrapes and bruises and bandaging the cuts that still seeped blood. Within a few minutes, but for a few bandages, Howland looked good as new. Lyanna whispered to Ned and a few moments later he reappeared with a small vial.

“This is sweet sleep, Howland,” Lyanna said. “I am giving you the smallest drop so you will sleep for three hours and be able to go to the banquet with us.” Lyanna saw him trying to protest, but the drug was beginning to work. “Nonsense Howland. It’s appropriate to your rank. You will be our guest.” As he began to drift off, she ordered Benjen to find appropriate clothes Howland could wear.

“I may have some things that will fit him,” replied Benjen.

**A Banquet and a Song**

Howland woke as late afternoon light could be seen from the entry way into the chamber in which he had been sleeping. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He was a bit sore, but felt well and rested. The sounds from around the tent were of the Starks washing up and getting dressed for the banquet. He looked around and saw a basin of water had been set beside the bed. His own clothes had been cleaned and folded on the travel trunk at the foot of the bed. Folded beside them were a green doublet and a pair of brown trousers.

So he got out of bed, used the basin to wash himself and put on the clothes. He pulled his own low boots over the trousers. Once he was dressed and his hair combed, he went out of the little chamber into the main area of the tent. There he saw Benjen, Ned and Brandon dressed up as proper lords, with their heads turned toward a partition at the back of the tent.

“My thanks for your kindness and hospitality, my lords,” said Howland. They turned to look at him.

“You are more than welcome, Lord Howland,” replied Brandon with a smile. “All of us are pleased you could join us.”

“Where is Lady Lyanna?” Howland asked.

“In the end,” said Brandon, “She is for all her warrior’s ferocity a beautiful woman who will not be seen at an occasion like this banquet looking less than her very best. After all her betrothed, the Storm Lord, will be present. In the meantime, have a seat.”

After a few minutes Lyanna appeared. She was wearing a red plush dress with a high neckline and wide sleeves. She had wristbands of silver, a simple silver necklace, and a direwolf pin, matching those of her brothers, over her left breast. She smiled at the men, who rose to greet her. “Do I look well, my lords?” she asked.

“Indeed you do,” said Brandon. “You are every inch the lady, and Robert will be so proud of you.” At this Howland saw a small cold look pass through her eyes, but her smile did not waver.

“Thank you, dear brother,” she said with affection. “Howland, I see you look very much the lord you truly are.”

“And many thanks to your brother for allowing me to borrow his clothes,” replied Howland.

“You are more than welcome, Lord Howland,” said Benjen. “I am glad they fit you so well.” Benjen then handed him a cloak, and shrugged one onto his own shoulders. The three elder Starks did the same, and Ned helped Lyanna with hers, a cloak of black fur. The combination of red and black seemed to become her, and of a sudden Howland was troubled.

“Shall we go?” said Brandon. They left the tent and began walking to the castle. Harrenhall was the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, but half of it had literally been melted by dragonfire during the Conquest, when its then-lord, Harren the Black, resisted King Aegon’s demand to surrender. Torches were set up to provide light along the path to the castle. The red and black dragon banner of the Targaryen kings was flying from atop the gate. Beside it was another black banner with a brown dragon in front of a bright orange fire. “The king is here?” asked Ned.

“Yes, it would seem so,” said Brandon. “It’s the first time he’s left Kings Landing in four years, and no one will say why.”

“I hope it does not mean ill, Brandon,” said Lyanna.

“We will have to be careful tonight,” replied her brother.

“I wish the banquet were not in this awful castle,” said Lyanna. “I feel there are bad spirits in the place. So many have died there.”

“Oh don’t be silly, dear sister,” replied her eldest brother. “Those things simply do not exist. They are just, snarks, grumkins, and silly tales Old Nan told us to frighten us into behaving ourselves, not that it ever worked on you,” he added with a smile.

She gave him a soft slap on his arm. “I was too obedient … sometimes,” she said. She smiled again. “How can such a stubborn brute as you be such a good brother?”

“It just comes naturally,” replied Brandon with a grin. Before them stood a tall broad-shouldered man with short brown hair and a carefully trimmed beard of the same color, both shot through with streaks of gray, dressed in brown riding clothes.

“Well met, my wolf pack,” he grinned. “You at least are decked out properly for this august affair, and I suppose your old ‘da can just hide behind you so all the pretty southron lords will not be offended.”

“Father, you look wonderful,” said Lyanna, “And it is good to see you smiling.”

“Who is this young stranger my young wolves have captured?” he asked, looking straight at Howland.

“He is Howland Reed, the eldest son of the lord of Greywater Watch,” said Brandon. “Lyanna collected him this afternoon, and sent some useless squires to rout on his behalf.”

At this Lord Stark let out a guffaw. “I’m not certain, Lyanna, how long you can continue to act as if you were Ser Duncan the hedge knight. You certainly do look ravishing tonight.”

With a smirk on her face, Lyanna dropped into a curtsy, “I thank you my lord father. She rose and hugged him fiercely.

“In any case, well met Lord Reed,” said Rickard Stark. “I am surprised to see you here, but as I am sure my sons and daughter told you, you are most welcome.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” replied Howland. “I am honored by you and your family’s hospitality, and I bring greetings from my lord father, who asked that I remember him to you.”

“And you are most welcome, Lord Reed,” said Rickard. “I would learn from you at dinner how things stand in your father’s lands and marshes. Shall we go in?”

Together the Stark family and Howland entered the banquet hall. It was vast, with torches set around the perimeter providing light. There was a long table on a dais set to their left with several additional long tables below it.

At the high table a number of people were sitting. “Over at the end, Howland, is Lord Arryn of the Vale and his nephew and heir Lord Elbert Arryn,” said Brandon. “Next to him is Lord Tully of the Riverlands and his son and heir Ser Edmure. And there is my lovely betrothed, Cat!” He grinned in the direction of a stately almost stern young woman sitting next to Lord Tully, who smiled back with a glow in her eye. “She’s Catelyn Tully, Lord Tully’s elder daughter and my betrothed."

“I expect the empty seat next to Lord Arryn is for Lord Baratheon, the Storm Lord and Lyanna’s betrothed. I do not see him, though.”

“Likely he is somewhere having a pot of ale … or two,” sniffed Lyanna.

“Stop that, Lyanna. Please,” said Ned. “He is a good man and will be a good husband to you.” Lyanna gave him a sharp look but did not reply. Brandon and his father looked uncomfortable.

“Let’s take our seats,” said Rickard. A servant guided them to the nearer end of the high table, on the opposite end from the lords Brandon had pointed out. There was an unoccupied throne in the middle and two Kingsguard helmeted and clad in white, were standing behind it. The hall was beginning to fill up.  Howland looked left and saw that a richly dressed stocky young man with a full black beard had taken the seat pointed out as the Storm Lord’s.

Servants were starting to appear, showing guests to their seats and distributing dinnerware. A group of musicians began to play. In a few moments, a trumpet sounded and a loud voice announced, “Aerys, second of his name, by the grace of the Seven, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm!” Howland rose with the rest of the seated guests. He and the other men bowed low, while the women curtsied deeply. The king and his retinue entered the banquet hall.

Through the corner of his eye, Howland saw the king, surrounded by three Kingsguard. The king was well dressed with a golden crown on his head. But his hair and his long white beard looked matted and filthy. Following him was a handsome man with long silver hair and purple eyes who was carrying a harp, also accompanied by a Kingsguard. Beside him walked a small dark-eyed woman who carried herself with grave dignity. They were followed by several richly dressed men, including a small bald man with eyes that seemed constantly to be searching the room for someone.

When the king’s party got to their places, King Aerys gestured, and the assembled guests came out of their bows. In a surprisingly sonorous voice the king intoned, “I welcome all to this joyous occasion, to break bread with us, and to take part in and enjoy this glorious tourney with which Lord Whent has gifted the Realm. May all be well and may the gods old and new preserve us. Let us be seated.”

With that, chairs scraped as people at the dais and throughout the hall took their seats, and servants scattered throughout bringing food and drink to everyone. Howland looked over at Ned, seated next to him and saw a friendly young man with kind eyes. “If you like I can tell you who is whom in this room. I’m only the second son, but Father has insisted I learn almost everything he is teaching Brandon,” he said with an exasperated smile.

“I do not know all of them by sight, Ned,” said Howland, “But my Lord Father requires the same lessons of me yours does of you. But please tell me who is that bald man in the king’s retinue?”

“He is Lord Varys,” replied Ned, “The king’s master of whisperers; his chief spy. The king imported him from Pentos, and he is said to know every secret in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“He must have many an informer,” said Howland.

“Of that I am certain. Perhaps we should talk about something else,” Ned told his new friend. Food began to arrive and wine as well, and the two settled into a conversation that included many stories of Lyanna’s hijinks and willfulness, and the trouble all four of Rickard’s offspring would from time to time get into.

After the meal was mostly complete and guests were finishing their desserts, the king clapped his hands. As everyone looked up he gave a smile and intoned, “My son, Prince Rhaegar, would favor us with some music and singing of his own composition. Do lend him your ears.”

The silver-haired man beside the king rose from his place, walked around behind the Stark party and made his way to the center of the tent. He spent a few moments tuning his harp, then nodded at the musicians, and began a tune, a lively song of adventure across the seas. His voice was harsh but compelling. Then there was a quieter song about a man and a woman in love, and a song about two friends competing for the same woman.

Then there was a song about war and loss and memory; a song in a key that quieted everyone in the tent. The sounds of soft weeping could be heard. Howland turned his head when he heard Lyanna sniffle. A moment later he heard Benjen jeer, “Lyanna’s just another girl. Look at her tears!”

Lyanna turned her head and glared at her brother. Immediately she picked up her wineglass and poured the contents over Benjen’s head. At this the entire Stark party, including Benjen, burst out laughing. The prince stopped playing and looked up with a big grin on his own face. He was looking straight at the Starks. “It seems the young woman there would prefer a livelier number, and perhaps that is for the best." He quickly began a comic song about a tradesman and his wife who make a blustering silly knight look foolish, and had everyone clapping, laughing and singing along at the chorus. At the end of this number the prince bowed, and everyone in the tent applauded, even the king.

The prince smiled again and began making his way around the room, exchanging friendly words with a large number of people; lords, knights, ladies and even smallfolk. He then moved to the high table, first greeting Lord Arryn and his heir, then moving to Lord Tully, his son and his daughter, and finally to Lord Robert, who grinned as the two engaged in a brief chat.

He greeted Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn of Dorne and moved to the Stark party. He greeted Lord Rickard and Brandon briefly, neither of whom showed any interest in chatting. He said hello to Benjen and grinned at the embarrassed boy. He moved to Lyanna, took her hand and just stared, as if his breath had been taken away. She stared back at him and her breath caught. The room went quiet. “Well met, your grace,” Lyanna said quite softly.

“Well met, Lady Stark,” the prince replied, with just the slightest hint of shaking in his voice. He moved down the table immediately and greeted Ned, who looked at him quizzically, and came to Howland. Conversation began to pick up. In response to a questioning look from Rhaegar, Howland said, “Howland Reed, your grace; heir to Greywater Watch.”

“Your people are full of the old magic, are they not Lord Reed?” asked the prince.

“They are, your grace, but for myself, I am no mage,” replied Howland.

“Very well,” said Rheagar. “Well met Lord Reed.” He took his leave and moved back to his seat beside the king.

 The king looked over at his son, smiled and called for dancing. Couples began making their way to the center of the tent where a space had been cleared. A variety of dances were done. After a few moments Brandon, who had moved into Benjen’s seat to the left of Ned nudged his brother who was staring at a beautiful black-haired young woman with purple eyes like those of the prince. “Would you like to meet her?” he asked his brother.

“I couldn’t,” Said Ned.

“Of course you can!” replied his brother. “No more nonsense. Just come with me.”

With a weary smile Ned arose and a few moments later Brandon was introducing his younger brother to the young woman. The two began smiling at each other as Brandon walked away and in a few moments the two were dancing as if they had known each other for years.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and Lyanna was there. “Would you like to dance with me?” she smiled.

“You are most unconventional, my la … Lyanna.”

“My lord father and my brothers tell me this all the time. Would you like to dance, Howland?”

“I would,” and with that they approached the dance floor. After two or three dances – Howland lost count – The stocky young man who had been pointed out as the Storm Lord approached them with a smile.

“May I have the pleasure of the next dance with my betrothed?” he asked in an amiable tone. First, though, he held out his hand to Howland. “Robert Baratheon, lord of Storm’s End.”

“Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. Well met, my lord,” replied Howland as he took the other’s hand.

“My dearest friend in the world, Ned Stark, says he is quite fond of you, Lord Howland, and now I see my betrothed feels the same way, and I am proud to call any true friend of those two a friend of mine.”

“My thanks,” said Howland as Lord Baratheon took Lyanna’s hand and looked at her with eyes glowing. He smiled broadly, but her smile back was small and tight. They begin to dance as Howland made his way to the entrance to the tent. His thoughts of revenge had come back to the fore.

He walked out into the cool night and made his way to the lake shore. The wind was quiet. After about a mile he arrived at the water’s dark edge. Stars were shining and the moon was full leaving a golden trail on the lake. He stood for a moment, imagining he could see all the way to the Isle of Faces. He thought about the green men he had met there, but the thoughts were overwhelmed by his continued rage at the three squires.

Quickly he knelt and sat back on his heels. He closed his eyes and allowed specific thoughts to flow out of his head. A greater sense of peace came upon him and he began to pray. “Gods of the crannog, gods of the tree, gods of the Isle, hear me, hear my prayer.

“I thank you for the gifts you have given my house. I thank you for my new friends, Lyanna, and Ned, and Benjen. I thank you for allowing me to share the wisdom of the green men. I thank you for the wisdom of my people. I ask for your help in facing the coming darkness. I ask your guidance in helping my new friends with what they must soon face.

“I ask for something more. I have been wronged by those who call themselves the servants of knights; the pitchfork, the porcupine, and the two towers. I seek the vengeance that is my due for what I have suffered. Grant me to have visited upon them the humiliation I have suffered at their hands. Bring them into my power so I may teach them the right.”

He began again and repeated this prayer twice more. He began to weep. He knelt there swaying, when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He came out of his trance with a start and looked around. There was Lyanna with a concerned look on her face. The hem of her red dress was damp from dew.

“When I saw you leave the tent, I waited a moment, made my apologies to Robert and followed you here,” she said. “I heard your prayer, and you shall have your revenge.”

“How do you know that, Lyanna?” asked Howland.

“I do, Howland,” she replied “I keep the old gods as you do, I dream my dreams, and I know. You will have your vengeance. You will be a strong lord and a powerful warrior Trust the gods, Howland. They have heard your prayer.”

“My thanks Lyanna Stark,” he said. “I feel at peace now. I will trust the gods to do what must be done. Shall we start back?”

“A moment before we do, Howland,” said Lyanna. “I have had another dream. In it a dragon landed outside our tent and beckoned me to walk into a fire. This evening, when I looked into prince Rhaegar’s eyes I thought I saw the dragon again, and I was frightened. I’m still frightened. He is such a beautiful man and so very kind, but I am frightened.”

“Lyanna,” said Howland, “I fear the dream is saying your fate soon will become entwined with the prince and his House. I think it now is even more important that you come to Greywater Watch and speak to the sages among my people, who can interpret far better than I and guide you truly.”

“I will ask my father by tomorrow night,” replied Lyanna. “shall we walk back?”

Howland bowed once to the gods and said a silent prayer of thanks. He rose and the two started back. They talked about their two families, but half way back she began talking about Prince Rhaegar, his shoulders, his purple melancholy eyes, his smile, his music, his harsh but beautiful voice. Howland listened but did not reply.

When they arrived at the Stark tent, Lyanna showed Howland to a cot that had been set up behind a partition. The cot had a plush blanket, a fur comforter and soft pillows. There was a simple stand with a water basin on top. “We Starks take good care of our guests,” said Lyanna. She kissed his cheek and walked away to her own quarters.

Howland felt something pulling on his arm, and he awoke with a start. He looked over in the dawn light creeping into the tent and saw Ned with an apologetic look on his face. “So sorry to wake you like this,” he said, “But Father has called a council of all the northern houses in attendance.”

The Crannogman sat up and wiped sleep from his eyes. “What does that have to do with me?” he asked “I am not yet a lord.”

“You are the only one here from House Reed, my friend,” replied Ned, “And you are the heir.” That is why he has commanded your attendance.

“Very well, my Lord Stark,” Howland replied with a rueful smile. “Please allow me a moment to get ready.” He quickly washed up and threw on his “lordly” clothing from the previous night. He then walked out and joined Ned, Brandon and Lord Rickard in the main area of the tent. “Thank you for joining us this morning, Lord Reed,” said the elder Stark. “Let us be on our way.”

“You are welcome my lord,” replied Howland. The four of them began walking into the woods behind the tent for a short way until they came to a small clearing, where other men, wearing the sigils of several northern houses including Umber, Glover, Dustin, Manderly and Karstark, were standing. Howland joined the other lords and introduced himself to several, all of whom welcomed him warmly.

Lord Rickard and his two sons, Brandon to his right, and Ned to his left, stood facing them. “I have called you today,” he said. “Because House Targaryen is using the Crown Prince to divide us from one another. I know he has been among your tents, and he has come to mine, to offer a false alliance.

“He says he would have us join in a conspiracy to displace King Aerys and put himself on the throne. I believe he means to betray us to this mad king who then would do away with all of us. We must turn a deaf ear to these lies and stand united against anyone, no matter how sweet their blandishments, who would divide us and deliver us naked unto our enemies. We cannot let the North be destroyed.”

Lord Dustin then asked, “Why then do we draw the adverse attention of the monarchy to ourselves with all these southron alliances? If Lady Lyarra was good enough for you, why not a northern bride for your own heir? And why not a good northern man for our Lady Lyanna?”

“I do what I must to protect the North and to bring it allies.” Replied Lord Rickard. “the North cannot stand alone against the entire might of King’s Landing.”

“You know as well as I do between Lord Reed’s good people and Moat Cailin, no army can pass into the North,” roared Lord Umber, a large man with a deep voice.

“And all the Targaryen fleet has to do is sail up our eastern coast and land armies upon it; armies much larger than our own,” said Lord Rickard. "And they can bribe the Iron Men to harry our western shore. We are safe by land but the sea lies open to our enemies. We must have allies so these Andals and their mad king cannot fall upon us as we sleep.”

With that a general discussion ensued, which went on for nearly three hours, with lords speaking for and against Lord Rickard’s marriage strategy. Finally, Lord Rickard called a halt. “I think our stomachs all are rumbling my lords,” he said. “Are we united?” he asked. “Are we one against our enemies?”

“We are one!” they all said loudly in unison. “We are one! Lord Rickard! Lord Rickard! Lord of the North! Lord of the North!” With that Lord Rickard smiled and waved his hand in dismissal. They all began walking toward their tents and their noon repasts.

Ned and Howland found themselves together at a distance from Lord Rickard and Brandon and the other groups heading toward the tents. “Ned.” Asked Howland quietly, “Why were Lyanna and Benjen not with us?”

“Benjen is too young to deal with such troubles as we older folk must,” replied Ned. “And Lyanna is a woman, a girl strictly speaking for the next few months, and my Lord Father thinks women and girls will do better with their task of caring for the household and the children who must grow to take our places if they are not distracted by our foolish games.”

“But,” said Howland, “Lyanna is far more intelligent than most men, and seems easily able to manage such cares. I think Lord Rickard would benefit from her counsel.”

“That may be,” said Ned, “But our Lord Father’s word is law to all of us, including Lyanna, and none of us would go against him.”

Howland smiled at his friend as they arrived at the Stark tent. A smell of beef and other good food wafted from it. “Shall we go in?” asked Ned. Inside a long table was set with trenchers full of food. Lord Rickard, Brandon, Lyanna and Benjen already were there chatting happily among themselves. Lyanna saw Ned and Howland and waved them to two empty seats on either side of her. They obeyed and quickly joined the conversation.

When lunch was complete, Brandon announced he was going to armor up for the afternoon session of the tournament. He left the tent. Lord Rickard invited the other four, including Howland, to come with him and view the action, and seemed surprised when Lyanna and Benjen told him they wanted to go riding together instead. He shrugged. “As you wish, children,” he said. “Ned, Howland, shall we go enjoy the festivities?” The two young men nodded, and the three left the tent.

They soon arrived at the jousting grounds, and found their places near the royal box in a space reserved for high lords and their families. This afternoon was a time for knights to challenge those who had been the champions of the first day. The herald quickly called out champions on behalf of one challenger after another. Some champions stood their ground while others were unhorsed. After about one half hour of this, Howland excused himself and went behind the stands.

**A Mysterious Knight**

Not long after, a mystery knight joined the fray. Mystery knights were a favored attraction at tourneys and the added intrigue of not knowing who the knight was added excitement to a victorious round. Sometimes the mystery knight was someone famous and sometimes he was someone who could become famous later; a valorous boy who wanted an early start.

The new knight, a small man, or even possibly a boy, was dressed in mis-matched armor, and bore a short lance, but what drew Ned and Lord Rickard’s attention was the shield. Its device was a tangled white weirwood tree on a field of dark red, with the face on the tree shown with a gaping mouth as if it were roaring with laughter.

“Ser Stevron Frey,” the herald called out. “You are challenged.” Soon an older man, perhaps 30, trotted his horse to one end of the lists, and his squire handed him a lance. His armor was burnished steel with the twin towers of his house imprinted on his surcoat. He couched his lance and waited.

The small knight at the other end couched his own short lance. At the herald’s signal the two rode at each other. As they came together there was a subtle flick of the small knight’s lance and the bigger man found himself on the ground. Quickly the small knight jumped off his horse and laid the point of his sword at the other man’s throat, and said in a hollow voice, “Do you yield?” The older man did so, and the small knight helped him to his feet. Ser Stevron handed the reins of his horse to the younger man. The crowd cheered loudly.

Soon the herald called out another challenge. The young mystery knight now was aligned against Ser Otho Blount, of a house in the Crownlands, directly subject to the king. He was a medium sized man in armor colored like brass and his house sigil was a porcupine. This time on the first pass the small knight ducked under the older man’s lance. Lord Rickard looked at Ned, and asked, “Is that young Lord Reed? He certainly is small enough and it’s rare to see such grace in a southron knight.”

“Howland told us he did not know how to joust, Father,” said Ned. “He says none of his people practice the art.” With that there was a crash and again an older, larger man was on the ground with the mystery knight’s sword at his throat. Once again the small knight helped his defeated opponent to rise, and once again the crowd roared.

“Who is this young man who makes such a mock of our realm’s knights?” they heard the king ask. His various councilors shook their heads. None of them knew. “What is strange,” Ned told his father, “Is that the knights the mystery knight has unhorsed are the masters of two of the squires who humiliated Howland yesterday. The Crannogmen are said to be magicians. Perhaps he cast a spell.”

Lord Rickard grinned at his son. “It’s bad enough Lyanna listens to all Old Nan’s silly tales,” he laughed. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen under that old woman’s spell.”

“You are right, Father,” responded Ned with a rueful smile.

“Likely Howland hired a champion somewhere,” said Lord Rickard. “Strange, though. His house is poor. I guess we just will have to wait until this mysterious fellow is unmasked.” All of a sudden there was another crash and another knight was being helped to his feet by the small unknown. The crowd roared once again, and someone called out, “The Knight of the Laughing Tree!” The crowd took up the refrain. “The Knight of the Laughing Tree! The Knight of the Laughing Tree!”

The young knight retired to a spot a short way from the lists, leading his own horse and the horses of the three defeated champions. Soon the three knights approached him dressed in breeches and doublets, while behind them their squires each led a pack horse with the vanquished knight’s armor tied on the back. They were there each to negotiate a ransom that would persuade the knight to return to them their horses and their armor.

They were seen talking for a while to the Knight of the Laughing Tree, who not only still was wearing his armor, but had not even taken off his helm. The four talked for a little while and then the three men looked surprised. The young knight said loudly in that hollow voice, “For your ransom I would have you teach your squires honor.” Immediately each of the knights confronted his squire. Two of them slapped their young men. All three squires hung their heads as their masters scolded them. Finally, the three knights turned back toward their young conqueror, who said in a loud voice, once again in that hollow voice, “You have fulfilled my terms and your horses and armor are returned to you, good knights. May your squires follow in the path of honor as you have done this day.” He took off his right gauntlet and though his hand was gloved he shook hands with each of them and the three knights and their squires with horses and armor in tow went their separate ways as the crowd roared once again. “The Knight of the Laughing Tree!”

“I wonder what this interesting knight will do next,” Lord Rickard asked his son, smiling. “Whoever he is.”

“Perhaps he will be the champion of the entire tourney,” grinned Ned, “And only will unmask when he has crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

“Perhaps. Let’s see who he challenges next,” said his father. But when they looked up the mystery knight was nowhere to be seen, and did not appear the rest of that day. A while later, Howland appeared back in his seat with a quiet smile on his face. “Was that you?” Ned asked.

“No, my friend,” said Howland. “I already have told you. I cannot joust. I think the old gods must have answered my prayer.”

“I will not ask,” said Lord Stark with a smile. “Your champion did well out there. Our seven kingdoms would be far happier if knights were only half as competent and courteous as that one.”

“Thank you, Lord Rickard,” said Howland. Not long after, Brandon appeared in the lists, challenging another champion. The fellow was a Reacher knight with a green apple on his shield. After three passes, Brandon succeeded in unhorsing him. He received a sizable amount when the defeated man came over to ransom his horse and armor, while Ned, Lord Rickard, and Howland cheered lustily. Soon after, though, he lost the ransom when he was challenged by Ser Barristan Selmy, one of the finest knights of the Kingsguard and was unhorsed himself in two passes.

Soon after the festivities were done and the three returned to the Stark tent, where the smells of supper welcomed them. They sat and soon were joined by first Brandon, and then Lyanna and Benjen. Roast chicken with apples and pears was served with a white arbor wine. “Did you enjoy your ride?” Lord Rickard asked his daughter.

“Very much, Father,” she said with a very bright smile. Her face was flushed.

“You must have ridden quite hard,” said her father.

“I did. It was wonderful,” she replied.

“Did you enjoy yourself also, Benjen?” Lord Rickard asked.

“I did, Father,” replied the boy, glancing quickly at Lyanna.

“I simply will not ask what mischief you two got into,” said Lord Rickard. “Robert really will have his hands full.”

At this Ned saw a slight cloud pass over Lyanna’s face. She turned toward her father and laughed. “No more trouble than is usual,” she said. With that the entire table joined in conversation as Brandon told the tale of his early victory and subsequent defeat and Ned related the tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree. “The Knight sounds impossibly good,” remarked Lyanna. “Perhaps the old gods did send him, Howland.”

The Crannogman looked thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he said.

Soon after, Lord Robert made a noisy entrance into the tent. “Lord Rickard,” he announced. “I beg leave to borrow your two grown sons and their kind friend for a little bit of revelry, and you also if you wish.”

“You may borrow them, Lord Robert,” said Rickard. “But as for me, I must arise early tomorrow and so feel I am required to decline. Please return them in good repair, my Lord. Your betrothed and their mother would be horribly disappointed if you did not.”

“Very well, Lord Rickard,” said the young nobleman. “I will keep them safe like the delicate creatures they are.” At this he roared with laughter. “Come on gentlemen,” he said, “Before Lord Rickard changes his mind.” Brandon, Ned and Howland joined him and they walked out of the tent.

**A Drinking Game**

As they were walking, Robert rounded on Howland and asked, “That was you, wasn’t it? The Knight of the Laughing Tree? It had to be you. You’re the right size, and you certainly are quick like the knight. You can say it now. You’re among friends.”

“I am sorry Lord Robert,” replied Howland. “As I told Ned and Brandon yesterday, my people do not joust. Make no mistake, we are capable warriors, and woe betide the knight who comes to our lands unwelcome. He will not come out again.”

Robert roared with laughter and the two Starks grinned. “I can see then why I must be your friend, Lord Reed,” he said. “I would not want such woe to betide me.”

Howland smiled. “We are friends Lord Robert, and you would be most welcome at my father’s seat.”

Robert clapped him on the shoulder. “Indeed we are,” he roared. “So who was it?”

“I cannot say,” replied Howland. “As I told Ned, the old gods might simply have answered my prayer.”

“We shall see about that,” said Robert with a smile and a wink, as they approached a tent surrounded with torches and with much noise and laughter coming from within. “We have arrived,” he said.

Robert led them into the tent in which servants were scurrying around with tankards of ale and bottles and cups of wine. The four of them each grabbed a tankard and Robert took them to a table where a young man sat. He was wearing livery that featured alternating fields of yellow skulls and red lips poised as if to kiss. The man smiled to see him. And raise his own tankard in salute. “you may be my liege lord, Robert, but I swear to out drink you tonight!” roared the young man.

“By the gods you will not!” replied Robert. “Before we start, Ser Richard Lonmouth, heir of one of the Storm’s most loyal houses, meet Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell, his brother Ned, and Howland Reed, the heir to Greywater Watch, that guards the North’s marches in the Neck.”

“Well met, my lords,” replied Ser Richard. “I see the corrupting influence of my liege is upon you.”

“Well met, Ser Richard,” said Brandon with a grin. “Indeed, we shall have to be careful our good friend does not get us into trouble. Everyone knows how delicate we Starks are.” With that both Robert and Ser Richard let out a guffaw.

“Very well, Richard,” said Robert, “Shall we begin?”

“Why of course,” said Richard. “I have here a gold coin with a very nice likeness of my good friend, the crown prince, who to my dismay hardly ever drinks a drop. I tell him he’ll become a dull old man if he does not loosen up. But he just gets that serious look on his face and declines again.” At this Robert grinned broadly and Howland smiled, but Howland noticed Ned’s and Brandon’s smiles were small and tight.

“So,” continued Richard, “The reverse of the coin is a three-headed dragon. One of us will flip the coin and the other will call ‘Prince!’ or ‘Dragon!’ If the side of the coin facing up matches the man’s call, everyone but he drains his tankard. If the coin lands on the other side the fellow who made the call drinks his tankard down. Now bottoms up, gentlemen. We want to be fair and start with one full tankard each. Whichever one wins shall get this coin, or equal value.”

At this Howland stepped back, and said with a rueful grin, “I surrender. I cannot possibly keep up with such gigantic men as yourselves and so must decline this noble competition.”

“And we must be sure to bring our noble guest back to our family’s tent in one piece,” intoned Brandon, “so Ned and I also must decline the honor, though of course we do so with sincere regret.”

“Weaklings!” cried Robert. “I knew you craven Starks could not stand up to such powerful men as we!” he said lifting his tankard. The two men began, each downing tankard after tankard and getting louder and looser the entire time. They soon were surrounded by other lords and knights, and a few moments later the king joined the circle.

“Your grace,” shouted Richard, “I swear to find and unmask this foolish Knight of the Laughing Tree who refused to make himself known to us!”

“I will find him, your grace!” shouted Robert. “I shall find him and drag him before you!”

“Two such stout men as you no doubt would find this errant knight quickly,” said the king, “Provided either of you are able to so much as walk tomorrow. My son however is sober tonight and so I will entrust him with this august mission to find the young varlet and bring him before us!”

Suddenly a hush came over the room. The king’s face fell and a look of deep sorrow came suddenly to his face. He turned and said roughly, looking at the prince who was sitting by himself at a table. “Rhaegar, bring this rebellious knight to me tomorrow morning!”

“Your grace, I will,” said Rhaegar, who stood up, approached the king, put his arm around his father, and led him gently away from the circle, whispering to him in a soft voice as he did so. The king’s step eased as the two walked away from the circle.

The room stayed quiet and men began drifting away from the circle. “Ser Richard, perhaps we had best call this contest a draw,” said Robert quietly.

“I agree Lord Robert,” replied Richard. “Well met my friend. I think I should see to my friend and you to yours.” He reached out his hand to Robert and instead of shaking, Robert pulled the knight into a rough embrace. “You are my friend, too, Richard. Please keep yourself safe.”

“And you as well Robert,” said Richard. At that they went their separate ways. Robert, Howland and the two Starks walked slowly toward the Stark tent, where Robert said good night and walked away with a gloomy expression on his face.

When they were in the tent, Brandon whispered, “The man is mad! No wonder everyone was so frightened. I can only hope the prince does not find this poor knight.”

“I think he will not,” said Howland quietly. “I do not think anyone ever will see this knight again.”

“I had better discuss this with Father,“ said Brandon. “The two of you may retire if you wish.”

“Ned,” Howland whispered after Brandon had gone to the back of the tent, “Are you certain your father’s course is wise? What if that spy of the king’s finds out?

“Also as your family says, ‘Winter is coming,’ a winter the like of which we never have known and our sages say we may need Targaryen fire to help beat it back.”

“Our Maester Luwin says those are just old tales, and that we should concern ourselves with the cares of earth,” replied Ned. “We have to trust our advisers. We probably had best be off to bed, you and I” said Ned. “Good night.”

“Good night, good friend,” replied Howland, and went to his cot.

**The Knight is Found**

The morning was grey. Lyanna sat her destrier a few yards inside woods looking out into the meadow where she first had encountered Howland and the three squires just two days prior. She was wearing brown riding clothes, but had a blue rose tucked behind her right ear. On the other side of the meadow a shield hung from a tree. The shield had a red background and its center was taken up by a tangled weirwood tree with a laughing red mouth in its center. In the distance riders could be heard coming, going and shouting, and she knew they were following the king’s command to find the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

But this particular area, between the castle and the tourney ground on the one side and the Gods Eye lake on the other, remained quiet. Lyanna was deep in thought. Her brother Benjen, who had ridden out with her, had just departed in the direction of the castle and the Stark tents. She had had another dream about a wolf and a dragon, and her mind was on the Prince of Dragonstone. Nothing she ever had felt came close to what she had been feeling after she looked into the prince’s eyes, first after she had poured the wine on Benjen at the banquet in Harrenhall and then when he had greeted her after singing, and for a moment she had been unable to think of what to say as the room grew quiet.

To her the prince was far more than he had seemed when she studied her book of annals. He seemed to glow. She could feel his concern for the realm and its peoples. He was strong and beautiful, with his angled face, his silver hair, and his purple eyes. The eyes suggested wisdom and careful thought. What would she do if she met him” What could she say?

Lyanna could not stop thinking about him. His kind face so full of sadness, his harsh voice so strangely compelling, the way his fingers danced over the harp strings as he sang, his sad, sad eyes that did not weep, eyes that saw all the sorrow of the world. She saw as if in a vision, she and he in matching black armor with red capes riding into battle together. She saw Rhaegar sitting in a corner engrossed in a book, while she prepared an offering of grains and wine to the Old Gods. She imagined their two nude bodies coming together in an overwhelming act of love. She shivered and shook herself. Why was she even waiting here? What did she expect?

This was not like her. She usually was so careful and clever about men and boys, always two or three steps ahead of them, and always getting her way. She recalled the pretty son of one of her father’s bannermen whom she had taken to a private spot outside Winterfell’s walls just after she turned 13. She convinced him to strip, and found him delicious to look at, but all she did was give him a deep kiss and run away giggling. The next morning, the young man found her in the courtyard, and right there knelt before her and pledged obedience to her for life. Men and boys were always her choice, not theirs. Why couldn’t this be like that? Why couldn’t she stop thinking of the prince?

And then there was her family. And Robert. Good old friendly Robert, who would do just as he pleased no matter the pain caused. Robert who would no more heed her words, than ever he would do as she asked. Robert, who always craved another pot of ale, and the next pretty peasant girl he would bed. He was strong, and a brave warrior, she knew, but how ever would he rule the Stormlands, when he could not even rule himself? Ned was so wrong about him.

She was betrothed against her will, and she did not love the man. But she was a loyal daughter of her house. She knew her duty. But her dreams said nothing about the Lord of the Storm or the lands he ruled. In what way did her duty truly lie? Robert would be just one more man, like her father and her older brothers, who simply refused to see the many signs that the North faced dangers from its north, not from its south, dangers that faced the Stormlands and the other kingdoms as well.

And there was more. Her father’s command that she and her brothers engage in southron marriages troubled her. Why should she be sent so far from home and from the family she loved with all her heart? What was it for? Was it part of some mad plot to overthrow the Crown? And why? Surely King Aerys was reputed to be mad, but what harm had he ever caused the North or House Stark? And the prince, his heir, the prince who crowded her thoughts and made her heart beat faster, appeared to her a fine and scrupulous individual, a singer, a warrior, a thinker, everything mayhap a king should be. She shivered once again.

She gave a start as she heard a harsh voice from behind her. “I see the shield of the Knight of the Laughing Tree up in yonder tree, Lady Stark, and his scabbard belted to your hip.” Now the voice softened a bit and a hint of a smile seemed to appear in it. “Perhaps you are a friend of this good knight and could tell me where you think he might have gone?”

The crown prince was beside her, his silver hair flowing, his purple eyes sparkling, and a kind smile playing on his face. Lyanna looked once, but steeled herself before replying. “Your grace, I believe the Knight was sent in answer to my friend Lord Howland’s prayers, and has disappeared back into the mists that surround yonder lake,” she said.

“A wondrous courteous knight, my lady” said Rhaegar, “And a pity the realm has lost someone who could have been one of its finest servants.”

“The knight was mayhap sent by the gods for a purpose,” said Lyanna, “And now that the purpose is fulfilled said knight has been taken back unto them.” She looked past the prince and saw two men riding toward them at the edge of the woods, each of them with a white cloak over his armor. Alarmed, she asked, “Why are the king’s guards here?”

“Ah, my lady,” replied Rhaegar. “These knights are assigned to guard me, and they are in fact two of my dearest friends. I trust them with my life.”

Lyanna shivered again. She gave a small grin. “It is my life with which I am concerned just now, my lord prince.”

“And your life is safe with these men, and with me,” replied the prince, as the two rode up and removed their helms. The first one had silver hair and purple eyes, not unlike those of the prince, and a large longsword strapped to his back. He bowed and said, “Ser Arthur Dayne, at your service, my lady.” The other, with a fine head of brown hair and blue eyes introduced himself as, “Ser Oswell Whent, my lady, knight of the Kingsguard, friend of the prince and brother to the host of this fine tournament, also at your service. Ser Arthur and I, and one other, have been sworn by the prince to protect you as we would him.”

Lyanna arched her eyebrows. “And why is that, your grace? I am but Lady Stark and have no royal blood.”

“Indeed you do, my lady,” said Rhaegar. “Royal blood far more ancient than my own, for you are a daughter of all the long generations of the kings of winter.” Lyanna shivered when she heard this. He turned to the two knights. “I fear our search is at an end. I have been unable to locate any man or boy who could be the Knight of the Laughing Tree.” The two knights smiled at Lyanna with a knowing look in their eyes. The prince continued, “I must return with you in a few moments so we may contain the king’s disappointment. But until we depart, I would like to have a brief word in private with Lady Stark.” The two knights nodded, replaced their helms, and moved in separate directions, each about 20 yards from the prince and Lyanna.

Prince Rhaegar turned to face her. His eyes glittered. “Why were you wearing my house colors the night of the banquet? My lady?”

“Why your grace,“ replied Lyanna, “It was my nicest dre – no! Your grace, I am plagued by special dreams; dreams that come true without fail; dreams that bode ill; dreams that frighten me; and lately such dreams have shown a winter like no other, armies of ice, dragons that fight them, and a baby that needs my family’s love!” All of a sudden, she burst into tears.

“I wore the red dress and the black cloak because of the dreams, your grace,” she choked through her tears. The prince took her hand and looked into her eyes.

“I too have had such dreams, my lady,” he replied. “Of wolves, and a terrible winter, and an army of the dead, and three children who are needed to fight them, two of whom have been born, I believe, and a third child who is so very needed. I also am frightened of this terrible trial. But when I see you, and the courage you showed yesterday, and the spirit of fun you showed the night before, it gives me hope we of mankind can escape this dire fate.

“The prophecies suggest we can. The children are our hope.” Lyanna had stopped crying, and looked at the prince with curiosity.

“Surely your lady wife can bear you more children,“ she said. “All can be well.”

“She cannot, I fear,” said the prince. “And the prophecy speaks of the song of ice and fire, and now I’ve met you I see the prophecy might need to be taken more exactly than I had thought; that a true union of your family of ice and mine of fire may be needed to turn back the dire curse.” Lyanna’s heart began to beat faster.

“You were a child once and have the same blood as they,” Lyanna replied. “Could you not be one of the three?”

“I have had a dream that shows me dead in my armor in a river, and the rubies on my breastplate scattered.” said Rhaegar. “At the hand of a living man. I cannot be the third. Would that I could.”

“Your grace, you have two children, a son and a daughter, no?” she asked. The prince nodded. “Then,” she continued, “Perhaps your daughter could in due course marry my brother Benjen.”

“There may not be sufficient time, my lady,” replied Rhaegar. “Also, I believe your father has some grievance against my house and me. Some statements he made about my house when I met with him were very harsh. Indeed, I do not think he believes in the peril that is coming, the doom we both have seen in our dreams. I do not know the nature of his grievance, or if there is aught that can be done to allay it, even if there were time for Rhaenys to be old enough to marry your brother.”

“What then, your grace? Your father has only sons, no?”

“Only my young brother Viserys and me, my lady. And it is not clear if my mother still can bear children.”

“Of course, your grace, I am betrothed to Lord Robert of the Storm, and no doubt soon will be popping out dark-headed brown eyed babes with full beards and hair all over.” At this Rhaegar Targaryen burst out laughing.

“The very image is so gruesome!” he said, and Lyanna laughed too.

“There is an additional complication, my lady,” he added. “Ever since I saw your eyes flash when you dumped that cup of wine on your brother’s head at the banquet, I have been unable to get you out of my mind’s eye.” His breathing seemed to speed up. “Lady Lyanna, I have never felt such a thing before in my life. I think I may love you.”

“Is this … love … Prince Rhaegar,” said Lyanna, “Causing any changes in your belief about what must be done to combat the peril ahead?”

“I worry that it may, my lady,” he replied. “I want you in my arms so very much. These dreams and visions always are true, but they are very prone to be misinterpreted, particularly by someone – such as I – who has a personal interest that may seem to coincide with the subject of the dreams.”

“I worry also, your grace,” whispered Lyanna. “For I have been unable to get you away from my own mind’s eye since you sang your song that made me cry.”

At this Rhaegar smiled a rueful smile. “I have a collection, my lady, of these songs of war and loss and longing, that cause almost any woman to cry, but I gather you are not a woman who cries very often at all.”

“I have cried twice in your presence, your grace. But no, I am not someone who weeps often, and it was your face when you sang the song that made me weep. There is a sense of sorrow with you that touched my heart. And you were so courteous when you greeted me, and helped me when I did not have anything to say. Your face is all I see and your voice is all I hear. I’m behaving like some stupid servant girl!

“I fear I may love you also, my prince, and it cannot be, oh it cannot be! I need no green dream to tell me what this may do to my family, to say nothing of your lady wife! Oh, it cannot be! I will not! I am a woman, not some silly girl! We must find another way, Prince Rhaegar!”

“If another way can be found, my lady, we shall find it,” said Rhaegar, “But I fear there may not be another way. I must go. We shall speak again.” At this, Lyanna turned her mount and galloped her horse, crashing through the woods away from the prince and his guards. When she was out of sight, she turned her horse and rode to the lake, where she dismounted and knelt on her heels at the water’s edge to pray.

“Gods of my people, gods of winter, gods of the trees, gods of the North, please guide me! Guide me away from this dangerous dragon. Guide me in the path of duty that I may be true to my father and true to my family. Guide me to be a good wife to Lord Robert! Please guide me to accept what is mine to accept.

“Guide the prince to find the child he needs. Quicken the womb of his lady wife.” This just made her feel sad. “Quicken the womb of his mother!” At this a powerful shiver went through her and she knew a terrible price would have to be paid for what she had asked. “If all else fails, please give me a healthy child by the prince!” Another violent shiver. “What have I done! Gods, protect my family and his, and help us to face the peril that is coming. Heal the anger that exists between my house and his.” At this another violent shiver went through her. Another high price to be paid. “What is happening?” she screamed. “What am I doing?”

She began to breathe hard and soon fell in a faint, and a dream came to her. Winterfell was broken and burning, and there were corpses in the courtyard, and a wolf with small wings on its back was stumbling through the courtyard. Then her brother Benjen, looking much older, a man grown, was talking to a much younger man whose face she could not see. She woke up screaming when she saw the face of a creature who looked almost human but with bright, sparkling, ice blue eyes. Frightened and weary, she got up, re-mounted her destrier and rode back to the Stark tents, moving the destrier at a canter as she drew closer to her family and began to breathe more easily.

**A Question of What to Do**

As Lyanna’s destrier crashed through the trees, Arthur and Oswell rode toward the prince. As they got there, Arthur could see he was breathing hard. “She certainly rode off in a fury,” he told Rhaegar.

The prince was silent a moment as the two knights eyed him carefully. He took a deep breath. “I fear I may have pushed her too hard,” she said. “Not five minutes after we began conversing we were talking love. That and the whole weight of the world placed on her shoulders as my dreams and hers say it is to be. I’ve frightened her off.”

Arthur fixed his prince with a steady gaze. “Your grace,” he said. “Lyanna Stark does not lack courage. Her venture yesterday with yon shield proves that well enough, but she would be mad indeed to not fear the import of what you told her.

“We have been talking about this for years, and this is not the first time your view of how the prophecies are to work has changed. You told Ser Gerold when you first took up arms that you would confront the doom on your own. Then you told him you would lead the king’s army to fight the very winter.

“Then you told us that your brother and other brothers not born would ride alongside you. Then you said your daughter and your son would ride alongside you. And now you tell us, a third child is needed, and your lady wife, Princess Elia is barren. And so now you say you need another woman.”

“The prophecies are difficult to understand, but more and more I’ve come to believe that they may be taken word by word as true,” replied Rhaegar. “Each change in my view represents a stronger hold on what the prophecies command. Each change is a step closer to the truth.”

“That may be, your grace,” said Arthur. “But why Lady Stark? You could not pick a more certain way to spark the war your father fears if you were to run off with Rickard Stark’s daughter. And Prince Rhaegar, my friend, there are hundreds of thousands of fertile, comely young women throughout our kingdoms, and thousands of well-born maids, many of whom would be only too happy to give up home, hearth, and family to be the personal friend of the Prince of Dragonstone, and to have him sing a love song into her ear. And you would not have to split the kingdoms to do it. Why Lady Stark?”

A cold breeze whipped through the treetops, and bit right through Arthur’s armor. “This spring may not be a true spring,” said Rhaegar. He looked sad, even more sad than customarily. “The prophecies speak of a union of ice and fire. I thought for the longest time that meant simply an alliance with the North, but,

‘Trees and castles all deep buried in snow,  
A pitiless army armored in ice,  
Night reigns supreme, and the land remains dark.

‘But a child of ice with a dark sword of glass,  
A dragon as sire, a wolf as the dam,  
May bring light to the night, life to the land.

‘The pitiless army will cower in fear,  
As the child of dragon and wolf brings

‘An army of light that with cleansing fire  
Makes daylight itself the cold army’s pyre.’”

The knights stared at Prince Rhaegar. “I uncovered this verse a month ago, just as we were making preparations to come up here for the tourney.”

“But honestly, your grace,” said Oswell. “Would not any noble lass from the North do just as well? The women there are comely, and lonely, and they all love it when a harper comes to call.”

Rhaegar smiled at this, and Arthur felt a grin split his own face. “The verse speaks of the child of a wolf, the Stark sigil. Further, if I gage it right, I and my house would not be welcomed should we ask to visit the North to seek a likely maid. I can imagine what Lord Rickard would make of such a quest.” Arthur and Oswell both smiled at this. The prince went on, “If the child is to be from my loins the mother must be a Stark, and I fear the world is lost if Lady Lyanna cannot be persuaded of this. I must do something drastic, I fear, to persuade her.”

“You know the two of us, Ser Gerald, and your other friends will stand by you and help as we can,” said Arthur. “You truly showed me and the rest of us long ago this was no silly tale told around a campfire on a cold night in the second year of winter. I will take your word in this.”

“As will I,” said Oswell. “We are yours, Prince Rhaegar.”

“Thank you, ser knights,” said Rhaegar. “I fear just as you say, Arthur, what I must do will split the kingdoms, and much blood will flow. But if ice truly overtakes us there will be no more blood to flow. Ever. This is what we fight for.”

**A Suggested Visit**

Howland saw Lyanna ride up at a canter, rein her big war horse up, hop off handing the reins to a groom and begin making her way to the tent, where he was sitting outside on the ground. When his friend got closer she could see her face was marked with worry and her eyes were red. Immediately he got up and went to her.

She went to him, flung her arms around him, and said, “Howland! What am I to do? Prince Rhaegar came on me when I was riding in the woods! He recognized my scabbard!”

“Are you in danger, my lady?” asked Howland, a note of concern in his voice.

“I do not believe I am, Howland,” she replied. “Not the danger you mean in any case. He confessed to loving me, and I to loving him. Howland! It cannot be! But he dreams true dreams also, and he has dreamed of wolves and I of dragons and both of us of a child who is needed to combat the coming peril.”

Howland’s stomach tied in a knot. “This is danger indeed, Lyanna; far worse danger than if the prince were angry. If you and he have both dreamed true, what is to come will shake the Seven Kingdoms to their roots, and I fear much blood may flow.

“I think now I must insist you ask your father to allow you to accompany me back to Greywater Watch. We will find if your dreams and visions speak true and make sure we have a correct interpretation of all of them. It is possible if this is as you say, you would have to abandon your family and go with the prince.”

“How can you say such a thing, Howland?” Lyanna asked. “I cannot abandon my father and my brothers. They truly are my world!”

“This is why, Lyanna, we must consult with those among my people who truly know.” Mankind cannot afford that you make a mistake in this. Will you ask your father?”

“I will, Howland, I will,” said Lyanna. “I fear deep in myself this all is true. When I prayed at the lake I felt the old gods listen. I knew they will grant three things I asked, but I knew also they will demand a terrible price for each one; answering my prayers. I will ask him. Where is he, and where are my brothers?”

This made Howland breathe more easily and smile. “Your brothers all are off hunting that young knight who so bravely avenged me,” he said. “But they will not find him, will they?” he winked when he said this.

“No they will not,” she said and winked back. “I think I must hide my scabbard. I would not want anyone to become confused by some relic of a knight who no longer is in this world.”

This gave Howland an even bigger smile. Lyanna disappeared behind a partition and came out swordless a moment later. “So, tell me. Where is Father?”

“I spent much of my morning fulfilling my promise to tell him how things stand in my father’s domains.” He winked. “I think your father understands better the need for a Stark visit to my father’s castle, very soon.

“After I was done, he thanked me and told me he would spend this afternoon visiting with some of his bannermen who are here. I expect your brothers went along after their hunt to enjoy more of the competition in the lists. I fear we shall not see them until late.”

“Then I will take a drop of sweetsleep so that I may be wakeful, rested and untroubled when Father and they arrive back here. And gods be blessed, I hope I do not dream.”

“Sleep well, Lady Lyanna. I will keep watch. It is after all my family’s duty to guard the North.” He grinned when he said this.

“Thank you, Howland.” She went behind her partition as Howland turned back to the door of the big tent.

**A Conversation**

She felt a tug on her sleeve and woke up. “Lyanna!” said Benjen. “Are you not well?”

She sat up. “I feel much better now,” she told her younger brother. “Are Father, Brandon and Ned back yet.”

“They went to have a conversation with old Lord Arryn,” said Benjen. Father told me just to enjoy the afternoon. He said the cares of manhood would come on me soon enough, and there was no need to start sooner than need be.”

“Once more the southron politics!” said Lyanna. “I do not think the Crown threatens the North, but there are things that do, and Father refuses to hear it! Has Howland talked to you?”

“He told me I should talk to you as soon as I can, before the rest of them get here,” Benjen said. “What is it, Lyanna?”

“It’s about the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and my dreams,” she told him. “Oh, Benjen, I’ve been found out!”

“Oh no!” exclaimed Benjen. “Are you in danger?” He gripped her arm hard.

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “No Benjen. Not the kind of danger you think.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean, Lyanna?” he asked.

She gripped his elbow and looked him in the eye. She saw fear in there and a brother’s love. She saw confusion, but she saw trust. “Benjen, I must tell you something very important, but you must swear to me you never will breathe a word of it to anyone, especially our father and mother and our brothers,” she demanded in an urgent voice. “Please swear. Please obey me in this!”

“Lyanna, you know I would give my life for you,” he replied. “You know that, do you not?” She nodded but did not loose her grip. “I swear,” he went on. “I swear on my honor as a son of House Stark and a son of the kings of winter. I will not tell father. I will not tell mother. I will not tell Brandon. I will not tell Robert. I will not tell anyone, unless you give me leave. I swear it!”

She gave him a fierce embrace. “Thank you!” she whispered. “Thank you, wonderful Benjen. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He cocked his eye, and she broke into a big smile. “Yes dearest of brothers, I must tell you now, because even though you are the youngest of us, you always were the only one who would understand.

“You remember Old Nan’s stories about the Long Night.” Benjen nodded. “The world now faces a graver danger, much the same, but worse. Do you believe what I have told you that I dream true dreams?” Benjen nodded. “I have had a true dream,” she continued. “Over and over for the past three turns, from even before father told me I would be forced to marry Robert.

There is a forest, and it becomes winter, and there is an army marching toward me from the north, an army all of ice, and I cannot escape it. Then there is a baby crying, and a burst of what must be dragonfire, and I feel a feeling of love, and the army of ice stops moving.” Benjen’s eyes were wide.

“This dream has frightened me, Benjen.”

“Nothing scares you, Lyanna,” Benjen protested.

“The dream scares me dear brother,” she said. “Do you remember how I cried when the prince sang his sad song at the banquet? How often do I cry, Benjen?”

“Not since our mother’s mother died,” said Benjen.

“No. Not since then,” replied his sister. “Not since then, but the prince made me cry.”

“I’m so sorry I teased you about that, Lyanna,” he replied.

“I forgive you, darling brother,” she smiled. “You were well and truly chastised when I poured my wine over your head.”

He smiled. Then his face got solemn. “The prince noticed you then, didn’t he?”

“He did Benjen,” said Lyanna. “He looked right at me. I have not been able to get his eyes out of my mind since.”

“Lyanna, this is real danger,” said Benjen.

“You are right,” she replied. "After we got rid of the Knight’s armor and had ridden back to the meadow where I rescued Howland, and I had thrown his shield into that big oak tree, you rode back here, and I said I would follow in a short while.

“I was sitting astride my horse, thinking, and the prince rode up on me. I was taken completely unawares. Like I’d lost every bit of my ability to pay attention. And he recognized my scabbard from seeing the Knight at the tourney. I told him the Knight had gone back into the mist, but he knew, Benjen. He knew!

“And then two of his knights rode up, and he told them he had not found a man or a boy who could be the Knight, and the two of them just grinned at me. Then he made them go off a ways and he asked me why I wore red and black at the banquet, his house colors, and Benjen, I told him! I couldn’t help myself! I just could not stand lying to him! I do not think I ever could lie to that man. It’s because of my dream, but not just my dream. Benjen, I love him!

“He told me he has these dreams, too, and he said he loves me,” she told her brother.

“What will you do, Lyanna?” Benjen replied. “You already are betrothed. I know you don’t want to marry Robert, but the prince already is married. I do not think father would allow you to marry him even if he were unwed. He tells me very little, but I know he does not like House Targaryen.”

“I know all this, beautiful brother,” she said. “You are right. I must first find out if these dreams are true, and that is why the gods sent me Howland. He has told me I must ask father’s leave to visit him and his family at Greywater Watch, and bring you with me.” She winked. “As my chaperone, of course.”

Benjen grinned. Lyanna continued, “The sages among the Crannogmen are wise in the ways of true dreams. They will tell me if my dreams are true, and if the prince’s dreams are true. If they are, I fear I must abandon you and Ned and Brandon and father and mother, and allow the prince to get me with child. You know what that will do to father, mother and our brothers! You know!”

“At least you would not have to marry Robert,” Benjen said with a rueful grin.

“If the dreams are ordinary dreams, or if the prince and I have wrongly scryed them, I do not know what I shall do. I do not want to marry Robert. But if I return to Winterfell, I will in time be forced to do so. 

“Benjen, I love the prince, and he has not reported me to the king. I believe he loves me, too. But if the dreams are not true, I cannot destroy our family, even for love. I fear if the dreams are not true, I will indeed marry big brutish Robert.

“Benjen, you must tell no one, and help me if you can. Please say you’ll come with me to Greywater Watch! And please do as I say."

He took her hand “I will, Lyanna, you know I will,” he told her. “I will continue to be your obedient knight, and whatever your decision I will help you do what you need to do.”

She reached from the bed and gave her young obedient brother a fierce hug. “Thank you, beautiful Benjen!"

A few minutes later, there was noise at the door of the tent. Lyanna got out of bed and splashed some water on her face and combed out her hair quickly. Then both she and Benjen came out toward the door.

“I hope you two have not got into any more mischief,” boomed Lord Rickard, while her oldest brother stood beside him grinning.

“Why of course not, dear father,” said Lyanna, as she fetched up an elegant curtsey. Her father laughed and held out his arms and she gave him a warm hug. She stepped back, gently gripping his wrists. “Father,” she said, “I have something serious to discuss with you. Is Howland here?”

Rickard looked over his shoulder, and said, “Howland, could you please join us? It seems my lovely daughter has something on her mind.” Howland came walking up and stood beside Ned. “Please, Lyanna”, said Rickard. “Tell me what it is you want.”

Lyanna let go of her father’s wrists and said in a serious tone, “Father, it has been many years since anyone from our family has paid a visit to Greywater Watch. “I know Brandon and his friends are heading to Riverrun after the tourney, and you are sending Ned to the Vale to visit with Lord Arryn and Lord Robert. And I know you have much to concern you at Winterfell.

“As your daughter, I could receive the homage due from Howland’s father on your behalf, and could deliver your good wishes to his house. I could find out all there is that concerns his people and report it back to you. It would make the relation stronger between our two houses, without disturbing the missions on which you have set Brandon and Ned, nor would it cause any difficulty for the work waiting for you at home. Please, Father. Let me do this for you.”

“Lyanna,” said Rickard, “As ever when you desire something, you set out the best of reasons as to why you should have it, and here once again I cannot fault your reasoning. But you are a girl, still.”

“Father, I am 15, nearly a woman grown,” said Lyanna, “And already I have the standing of a friend of House Reed. And you know that his people allow women to serve as warriors and envoys and even rulers. So, having me there will not be out of place. Also, I can take Benjen with me, and he can gain valued experience, because unlike a little woman like me, he will have to do these things when he gets older.”

Rickard smiled an indulgent smile. “Very well, dear Lyanna,” he said. “You may go to Greywater Watch after the tourney, stand in my place, and receive the homage of his house on behalf of House Stark, and learn what you can of his domains and report back to me on what you find. Benjen, Howland, take very good care of this precious woman. I would be hurt indeed if any harm were to come to her.”

“Oh, thank you, Father,” said Lyanna, her eyes flashing. “I am certain both Howland and Benjen will take good care to see me safe.”

Benjen and Howland both smiled. “Of course, my lord,” said Howland. “I cannot thank her enough for how she helped me.”

“Yes father,” said Benjen. “You know I always will protect her.”

“My thanks to both of you,” said Rickard, “And thanks to you Lyanna for assisting me in this way.” Lyanna curtseyed once again and each of the young men made a deep formal bow. Rickard and Brandon burst out laughing. “I think it’s time for some food,” said Brandon.

“Brandon,” I have a question,” said Lyanna. Her brother arched his eyebrow. “Where is Ned this afternoon?”

Brandon’s grin practically split his face. “Why Lyanna, I saw our so shy brother, being led behind a fence by Lady Ashara, that beautiful woman with whom he danced at the banquet two nights ago,” he said. “It may be he will be a bit late this evening.” He winked at his sister.

Rickard rolled his eyes, but his smile was indulgent. “I suppose it only makes sense that a man will be happier if he loves well the woman he is marrying, as Brandon does his Cat, and as Robert does you.”

Lyanna’s face stayed composed. “Yes father. I can only hope Ned is returned to us whole. I am told Dornish women are fierce,” she said.

Rickard, Brandon, and Howland burst out laughing. “We all will have to hope he is every bit the warrior he shows himself at Winterfell,” said Rickard. “If he’s not back by morning I’ll send you and Brandon to the rescue. Now let us get that food.”

The next three days of the tourney went smoothly. Robert came courting, and was pleasant enough, though Lyanna did not warm to him. Nevertheless, she kept fixed in her mind what she had said to Howland about marrying him if the sages at Greywater Watch revealed her course with Prince Rhaegar was not needed to confront the world’s peril.

Brandon challenged several knights, wining some tilts and losing others. He spent time courting his Riverlander betrothed as well. Ned seemed to spend every moment possible with his pretty raven-haired Dornish lady. Benjen spent most days watching the tourney. Lord Rickard was making his rounds to his bannermen, and sometimes to the River Lord and the Lord of the Vale, often taking Brandon or Ned, or even Howland with him. Howland seemed to be spending a lot of time alone by the lake.

Lyanna rode to the meadow each day, but never once saw the prince. There was much good conversation when family members and Howland were together, and conversations about Lyanna’s upcoming visit to Greywater Watch. Lyanna felt there was a strange calm over everything, and though she remained cheerful, this unsettled her.

The final day of the tourney dawned bright and clear, but with a chill in the air. Lyanna decided to wear her red dress once again. When Brandon raised an eyebrow as she came from behind her partition, she told him. “It’s the warmest clothing I have here. Surely you would not want your sister to freeze?”

“No, I suppose not, though I wish the colors were different,” replied Brandon.

“Well I’ll be wearing stags and other things Baratheon soon enough, dear brother, but I have no such raiment now,” she said with a slight edge in her voice. Her brother shrugged and turned to one side, as she tucked a blue rose behind her right ear.

All were dressed in their finery, including Howland, who once again was wearing the clothes he had borrowed from Benjen, as the Stark party made their way to the tilting grounds. They took their seats near the other great lords present, with only Mace Tyrell, the new lord of Highgarden with two of his young sons between them and the king’s seat. On the other side of the king’s seat were Lord Arryn and his nephew, Lord Tully, his son and his daughter, and by himself, Lord Baratheon, who looked a bit bruised from his participation in the previous day’s melee, in which he had finished second.

The king made his way to his place followed by three Kingsguard in white, the small woman whom they had seen with Prince Rhaegar the night of the banquet, accompanied by another Kingsguard, and various members of the king’s court, including the spy Varys.

Once again, the king was dressed well with a crown on his head, but his hair and long beard were matted and filthy, and his fingernails were uncut. He looked unwell. Trumpets blared once again, and the king stood. In that surprisingly musical voice, he said, “I declare the championship open, a championship in which my son and heir and two of my finest Kingsguard will compete with the best of our realm’s knighthood for the crown of champion, and the right to designate one of the women here as the reigning queen of love and beauty.” The crowd applauded, and a herald called out the names of the first contestants.

The crowd roared as knight after knight was unhorsed, until just after lunch only four knights were left. They were Ser Richard Lonmouth, the knight of skulls and kisses to whom Ned, Brandon and Howland had been introduced by Lord Robert, two knights of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne the famed Sword of the Morning, and Ser Barristan Selmy, accounted the finest jouster in the Seven Kingdoms, and Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the realm. Earlier the prince had unhorsed both Brandon and Lord Royce from the Vale with his bronze-plated armor and a strange shield, copper colored with black studs and runes inscribed around the edges.

When Ser Arthur was introduced, Lyanna saw Brandon, who already had returned to the Stark seats, nudge Ned and overheard him whisper, “You will be getting to know that man a great deal better!” Ned just looked embarrassed. Lyanna’s heart beat faster as Rhaegar was introduced, but she kept herself composed. Rhaegar’s armor was black and the breastplate had a relief design of a three-headed dragon. The eyes and the fire coming out of the dragon’s mouths were made out of rubies that sparkled in the bright sun.

The first match pitted the two Kingsguard knights against each other. Ser Barristan unhorsed Ser Arthur on the fourth pass while the crowd applauded wildly. “Ser Barristan looks to be on his game today,” said Lord Rickard to Brandon. “I suppose the prince will be his next victim.” This made Lyanna feel sad, but she said nothing and remained composed.

The next contest featured the prince against Ser Richard. On the third pass the knight struck the prince a glancing blow with his lance and Rhaegar wobbled for a moment on his horse. Lyanna felt the prince’s eyes on her as he steadied himself. After two more passes, the prince struck Ser Richard square and the knight of skulls and kisses tumbled to the ground.

The prince jumped down from his horse, accepted his opponent’s submission, pulled the defeated knight to his feet and embraced him as the crowd applauded. After about one-half hour the prince and Ser Barristan took their places at either end of the lists. The Kingsguard knight’s white armor contrasted sharply with the prince’s black.

The signal was given and the two men charged. The prince neatly evaded Ser Barristan’s lance that looked to all the world as if it were aimed true. Two more passes ended the same way, with neither competitor able to land a blow. Lyanna felt the prince’s eyes on her once again and her breath quickened. Ned looked over at her with concern. “Are you all right?” he asked. Lyanna only nodded.

The prince and the knight started toward each other again. Lyanna could see there was something fierce and focused about Rhaegar’s charge. He struck Ser Barristan cleanly, and the white knight crashed to the earth. Once again, the prince jumped off his horse, accepted his opponent’s submission, and raised the defeated knight to his feet. The two clasped gauntleted hands as the crowd applauded loudly.

Se Barristan led his horse away as Prince Rhaegar remounted. He hefted his lance, walked his horse over to where the king was sitting, bowing to the crowd as he went. When he reached the king, he bowed deeply and removed his helm. “Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, you are the champion of the grandest tourney held in the last 100 years, and a truly worthy champion you are having bested the greatest knights in the realm in combat fair and free.”

He handed Rhaegar a circlet of blue roses, and continued, “I now charge you with crowning she among us who as the Queen of Love and Beauty represents best the spirit of knighthood and honor in our realm and at this tourney.”

“I accept your charge with gratitude, your grace,” replied the prince. A servant reached over and took his helm. The prince backed away smiling, holding the crown of blue roses high as the crowd’s roar deepened. Lyanna felt a twinge of apprehension.

The prince backed his horse to the middle of the lists, tuned to his left, trotting the horse a few paces, exchanging a glance with his small, grave wife, then turning about and trotting his horse in the opposite direction. As he reached the Stark seats, He looked Lyanna straight in the eye and advanced his horse to her seat. “Lady Lyanna Stark,” he announced. “To me you best represent the ideals of the feminine complement to true and honorable knighthood, and for that reason I proclaim you the queen of love and beauty.” He bowed and extended the crown of blue roses to Lyanna as her eyes grew wide, and her heart raced.

She stood, bowed her head, and allowed the prince to place the circlet of blue roses on her head. Equal parts excitement and fear consumed her. The prince backed away as she smiled and waved while the crowd roared louder than ever. After a few moments, she gave a curtsey to the prince, and two more to the crowd, who applauded even louder. The prince came over and faced the king, and Lyanna turned in that direction as well. King Aerys intoned, “I salute our champion and his queen. May all here be well, and may all in our realm be well. We thank House Whent for hosting us for this great clash. May all here have a safe journey home.”

Lyanna looked around at her family. Her father and older brothers looked stunned, and their surprise began to turn into anger. Benjen and Howland just sat quietly. “We will speak back at the tent,” Lord Rickard told her in a tight voice She bowed her head. “Yes father,” she replied. She left the seating area and went to the destrier she had tied at the rail with other horses. She then saw a small fold of blue paper tucked into the inside. “The meadow. One hour,” it read.

She trotted the horse down to the lake, and just sat astride, watching the ripples and feeling the chill in the air. She shivered. Over the water she could see the outline of the Isle of Faces. She was afraid to pray, far more afraid that the gods would hear her than that they would not. When most of the hour had passed, she turned the horse and rode to the meadow taking a position just inside the trees.

A few minutes later she heard a whispered, “My lady!” behind her. She turned her mount back into the woods and about two minutes later came upon the prince, astride a white stallion. His doublet was black with the red three-headed dragon that was the symbol of his house on the breast. Three knights, armored in the white of the Kingsguard, but with their helms removed, were with him.

“My lady,” said the prince in his harsh voice, “I believe you know Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell.” She nodded at each of them. “The knight in the center was a big man with lines of age in his face, with dark hair shot with grey and dark eyes. “May I present Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Ser Gerold, Lady Lyanna Stark.”

Lyanna’s heart raced, but she did not forget her courtesy. “Well met Lord Commander Hightower,” she said with a kind smile.

He repaid her smile with one of his own. “Well met, Lady Stark. It seems you have become an important person.” A wave of fear swept through her.

The prince said, “I trust the two men you have just met and Ser Gerold with my life and with my secrets. You are safe with them as with me.”

“Your grace, I fear there is no safety, for you or for me,” she replied. “But I thank these valiant knights for their protection all the same.”

“Gentlemen, may Lady Stark and I have a word in private?” The three knights nodded their heads. Each moved in a different direction away from the prince until they formed a triangle with Lyanna and him in the center and 20 yards from each point.

Lyanna took a deep breath. Her heart continued to race, but at the same time it was as if time itself slowed down and she felt a strange peace in Rhaegar’s presence. “Your grace,” she said quietly. “I have obtained permission from my father to visit Greywater Watch to receive the lord there’s homage on my father’s behalf, and I intend to consult with the sages in that place as to the truth of my dreams and yours.

“If the sages deem the dreams true, I would meet you somewhere safe, away from Harrenhall but near enough that it can be found from here, and that we can travel quietly from there.”

“Very well, my lady,” said the prince. “There is a small glen near the western shore of the lake. You would leave the Kingsroad a league north of where you would turn off to Harrenhall and travel directly west and travel west along the track you find there about one league and a half, where you will see another track headed south. Half a league from there you will see the way to the glen. It is well hidden from prying eyes, and I will meet you there 40 days hence.”

“Thank you, your grace,” replied Lyanna. “Understand that if the sages say our dreams are false or have some other meaning altogether, I will not meet you, and you and I will not meet again until I am the duly wed Lady of the Storm.” A wave of sadness crashed through her. “Your grace, I feel your destiny and mine each is sad, whether or not we travel together in 40 days’ time.” The prince nodded, his eyes deep pools of sorrow.

“And your grace,” she continued. “I require a horse.” The prince raised an eybrow. At this she glared at him and said, “I am not some ninny of a merchant’s daughter to swoon into your armor and be packed over your charger like a bag of summer wheat!”

The prince smiled, and it made Lyanna glad to see it. “Indeed, you are not, my lady. You are fit to be a queen. A proper horse you shall have.”

Lyanna’s breath caught. “And your lady wife?”

“There is much I would tell you, Lady Lyanna,” he replied. “But not until I know we are to ride together. For your own safety if it is otherwise, it would be best for you not to know. And Lady Lyanna?”

“Yes?” Lyanna looked at him with questions in her eyes.

“Will my lady require a sword?”

Her eyes flashed. “She will indeed, your grace!”

“Very well, then,” said the prince. “40 days hence. At the glen. A horse and a sword will be waiting with me. And if I do not see you, we will never speak of this again.”

“Your grace,” she replied. Immediately she turned her mount in the direction of the Stark tents, and galloped away. She saw big Ser Gerold moving in the direction of the prince as she did so. Five minutes later she slowed the big destrier to a walk and kept on in the same direction, waving and smiling to various people as they greeted her as she got closer to the tents. Just before the Stark tents came in view she broke her horse back into a gallop.

**An Explanation Clears the Air**

The day continued gray as the afternoon approached, and the bite in the air from an even cooler breeze did not stop. Howland was outside the Stark tent thinking. He knew his father’s health was poor and he might soon have to take his own place as Lord of Greywater Watch.

His family and people were well aware of the doom that so worried Lyanna, a doom to which the rest of the North, particularly the current generation of Stark men, seemed oblivious. How could he aid Lyanna given the near certainty of the course she would need to take? A course her father and older brothers, he was certain, could never accept. How could he and his kin play their needed part and still avoid a clash with House Stark?

All this would be his to decide soon. Too soon. He learned from his quest to the Isle of Faces, but what he had learned was no comfort. He had enjoyed his time among the Starks and counted them all friends, and he wondered if the friendship could endure the troubles and confusions to come.

Why had the prince so publicly indicated an interest in Lyanna? Would this destroy trust between her and her family? Rickard and Brandon had seemed angry and Ned confused as they walked back to the tents. Benjen had been quiet. Could this make it impossible for her to do what he was certain she needed to do? Did the Starks truly intend a rebellion against House Targaryen and the Crown? Was that why Lord Rickard and Brandon had spent so much time with Lords Tully and Arryn? Was this to be a full scale civil war? It could not be coming at a worse time.

He heard galloping and looked up, a bit startled. Lyanna reined up the big destrier, leaped off, handed the reins to a groom who suddenly appeared, and walked toward Howland. The fact her face was flushed and her long brown hair tangled simply made her look more beautiful. Howland stood, and she grasped both his hands. “I am more frightened than ever now!” she whispered.

“I am to meet the prince in 40 days if my and his visions prove true!” she continued keeping her voice low. “But my dreams tell me what I am to do will destroy my family and his! My poor father! My poor brothers! My poor dear prince!”

“What will you tell them?” whispered Howland.

“I’ll think of something!” and then she smiled. “It’s very nice to see you, dear friend,” she said in a normal voice. “Why don’t we go in and see my father?” With that both of them walked into the tent. Lord Rickard and Brandon were seated at the dining table, with Ned and Benjen in chairs several feet away.

Lyanna’s father and older brother glared in her direction as she and Howland walked in. “Lyanna, what have you done?” he asked, his voice showing more hurt and confusion than his angry expression.

“I have done nothing, father,” replied Lyanna. “When he offered me the crown, did I dare rebuff him and draw the king’s wrath onto our House?”

“But why would he even give the crown to a girl he does not know? Said Rickard.

“I saw the way he looked at you at the banquet,” said Brandon.

“Dear brother,” replied Lyanna. “I have been getting looks of that kind from boys and men since I was 13 and first sprouted breasts. Kind of you not to notice until now.”

“But still,” said Rickard. “Why would the prince give the crown to a girl of whom he knows nothing.”

“Nothing?” replied Lyanna. “Father I am certain the prince has received the same lessons all of us receive and knows very well who is each member of every great house.”

“Even so,” said Rickard. “This king and his brood never have taken any notice of House Stark until just now. Is the Crown trying to divide us?”

“Lord Stark,” said Howland. “Perhaps the king’s spy heard about what Lyanna did to help me the day of the banquet, and told the prince. People believe the prince has an attachment to knightly values, and if so, such an account would touch the spirit of a man like that.”

Rickard visibly relaxed as he listened to this, though Brandon remained scowling. “Thank you, Howland,” he said. “This Varys could find out such a thing. Perhaps it is no more than the prince was moved by a tale of chivalry from an unlikely source. I still do not trust him, but what you say, Howland, eases my mind. In any case, we depart tomorrow morning. So, let us have some lunch and get to it.”

Fifteen days later the Stark party arrived at the turnoff to Greywater Watch. The day was clear, calm and a bit cold. “I smell winter in the air,” said Rickard. “I hope in this case I am mistaken. If winter returns and hits hard, Lyanna, you and Benjen have my leave to remain at Greywater Watch until it passes. Even for such as the two of you, the journey north to Winterfell in deep winter is difficult indeed.”

“Thank you, father,” said Lyanna. “I hope it will not be necessary to pause for so long, but we shall do as we must.” Rickard, Lyanna, and Benjen were mounted on traveling horses, and Lord Stark had provided a sturdy garron for Howland’s use. The wagons with the tents and supplies followed. Fewer than 10 mounted guardsmen were accompanying the family and its train.

“The king’s peace still holds at least,” said Rickard. “And Brandon should have arrived at Riverrun and Ned and Robert at the Eyrie a week ago. And so, your father must continue on alone without the valued company of the three of you.”

“If the king’s peace holds, father, should we not continue to uphold the king?” asked Lyanna.

“Please, Lyanna,” said Rickard. “There is so much you do not understand. In any case, here we must say goodbye for the time being.  Howland, I trust you can see my son and daughter safe to Greywater Watch.”

“Indeed, my lord,” said Howland. “Even here my people are watching and will protect us all the way to our seat. Thank you for your trust in us. We will be safe indeed.”

“Thank you, Howland, both for your friendship and for your people’s continued loyalty,” said Rickard with a kind smile. “The Starks of Winterfell have no greater friends than the Reeds of Greywater Watch.”

“And so it always shall be,” said Howland. “I hope to see you again, my lord, before many years have passed. May your journey to Winterfell be easy.”

“And yours to your seat as well,” said Rickard. He walked his horse beside Lyanna’s, reached over and gave her a fierce hug. He did the same with Benjen. “And now off with the three of you,” he said, as they turned their horses to the west. Howland heard the multiple noises of the Stark party as it started north once again.

Ten days later, Lyanna, Benjen, and Howland, traveling east this time, emerged from the crannogs and came within sight of the KIngsroad. The weather was grey and much colder. Tiny snowflakes swirled in a soft wind. The three were solemn and quiet. Howland was afraid for his two friends, and for the choice that now was in Lyanna’s hands.

Lyanna spoke to him saying, “I appreciate the hospitality and understanding of your lord father, and am thankful your peoples’ sages spoke so clearly. I remain afraid, but I know what I must do. You and your father must say you advised me to go home to Winterfell, and that I ran off too quickly when we got to the Kingsroad for you or Benjen to catch me.”

Howland nodded sadly. “I agree, Lyanna,” he said. “I will do as you ask.”

“Thank you, Howland, for this and for everything,” replied Lyanna. “Without your help I would just have been one more lost and confused young girl.” She turned to her brother. “Benjen, you must go home, and tell Father the same story, and resume your place in our family. With me gone, Father will need you more than ever.”

“Lyanna,” said Benjen, “I always obey you, but not in this. Father does not understand and will not listen to his youngest son while his martial oldest son beats the drums of war and his thoughtful second son does all he is told to do. I will be dismissed as a juvenile, just as you have been. No. I will go with you to protect you as best I can and to see you safe to your prince. And then I will ride north to the Wall and take the black. Father will not listen to a youngest son, but he will listen to a respected member of that brotherhood.”

“You cannot,” said Lyanna. “For you to accompany me would be treason against our House and Father would have no choice but to put you to death. And it would kill him to swing the blade at your neck, and kill me to hear of it. Please say you won’t. You know well I can take care of myself.”

“A woman alone,” said Benjen, “Always can be assaulted by a band of cutthroats, no matter how strong she is. But a woman riding with her brother, even a brother as young as I, will be far more safe, and it would be foolish to make a choice such as yours, and simply be waylaid on the road halfway there.

“And by joining the nights watch all a man’s crimes are forgiven, including the necessary treason against my House. Father will respect that, and he will not have to swing the blade.”

Howland saw Lyanna looking deeply and carefully into Benjen’s brown eyes. She held the pose as their horses walked slowly to the big road. A look of deep sadness came over her face. “The destruction of my family already is begun,” she told her brother. “But you are right. You may come with me, and may the gods old and new save us both.” She reined up, put her hand on the bridle of Benjen’s horse to arrest its motion, and gave her brother an intense hug.

“Howland. This makes your story easier,” said Lyanna. “Tell your father both Benjen and I ran off in the wrong direction at the Kingsroad, and you could not keep up. Say that Benjen told you he intends to take the black. Have him send a bird to Winterfell with a message telling our father all this. Say it is all my fault; that you could not stop me, and that Benjen made a youth’s mistake, for which he will atone by joining the watch. It will be at least 15 days before Father reads the message and by that time I will be embarked on this journey I must take.” She spurred her horse forward, and Howland and Benjen followed.

“Do you love the prince, my lady,” asked Howland.

“I do,” she replied, looking directly at him. “But were it only love, and were the dreams wrongly interpreted, I would turn my face to home and away from my love, and do what my father asks. I am a Stark of Winterfell and I will do what is allotted to me to do.”

“Lyanna,” said Howland. “You’ve never looked more a queen, even in your brown riding habit, than you do just now. May the gods guide you in your journey and may the needed child be born healthy and strong, and may you guide the child’s steps until such time as the doom comes. May you and your prince find what is needed to save our world.”

“The dreams have come again, Howland,” said Lyanna. “My prince and I may not live long enough to guide the child ourselves. I have dreamed of a young man, standing alone in a snowstorm, with his hands clasped to the hilt of a large Valyrian steel sword that is not our family’s Ice planted in the ground. He looks very sad, and when I look through his eyes, I see an army of ice approaching. I think my son will grow up. But the fact he is alone tells me neither his father nor I will be at his side.”

They came up a short rise onto the Kingsroad and reined up. “This is goodbye, I think, Howland. I may not see you again. If I do not, please be a good counselor to your father, and a good friend to House Stark. When the time comes rule your people well and wisely as I know you will. Raise strong sons and daughters, and try not to forget me.”

Howland laughed. “No one, having once met you, ever could forget you, Lyanna Stark. You will be celebrated in song and story, I am sure.”

“Like as not as a fallen, faithless woman, I fear,” said Lyanna with a smile. Then she embraced him lightly, and turned to Benjen. “We must be off, faithful brother, before the snow gets to our horses’ withers! Farewell Howland!” she said, as she and her brother turned their mounts south and set off at a gallop. Howland grinned. That part of the story he would tell was true enough. He never would have caught them.

**The Dragon in Winter**

It was snowing lightly and cold in the evening light as the party entered the glen. There were no signs of life or movement. Ser Richard Lonmouth wondered again if this errand was not just some foolish fantasy. Twenty days they had ridden north from Kings Landing, avoiding roads and riding back trails and fields as the full blast of the returning winter hit them in the face.

And for what? Did Prince Rhaegar really think the Stark girl was going to throw over her entire family for a dream she could give birth to a magic baby boy? Why did he believe the prince? Why did Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne, who had seen everything, believe their friend? It had been so cold on the way north to the west shore of the God’s Eye, and though the wind was not bad this evening, it still was none too warm. They were dressed in winter riding clothes, but all were fully armed.

It was a beautiful night, however, and snow clung to the boughs as they rode into the opening, each man leading an additional mount packing supplies. The prince was leading two horses. No visible campfire. No tent. Not even footprints, though there had been sufficient snow in the last few hours to cover any. “She may not be here,” said Arthur to the prince. “Wait,” the prince replied. “I hear something! Behind us.” Richard, taking up the rear looked around and there was Lady Lyanna with a grin from ear to ear beside a young man, really no more than a boy, both dressed as was the prince’s party in heavy woolen riding clothes.

“Have a care for who might be behind you, your grace, ser knights,” said Lyanna, arching her eyebrow. She and her companion reined their horses to the left and she shifted her head in the same direction indicating the party should follow. Forty yards into the trees, there was a smaller opening with a small tent in the middle and the remains of a campfire.

“We were taking no chances,” said Lyanna. “Even in the deeps of winter there can be brigands, spies, and others up to no good.” She jumped off her horse and marched over to the prince, who also dismounted. “Your grace,” she said. “My dreams and yours spoke true. Your fate and mine are bound together in sorrow and in blood. But your grace, I bear you a love that is every bit as true as one of my green dreams, if you will accept it and me.”

“My lady,” said the prince. “I have feared this moment for the last two years, since my son was born. What we must do is needed by our world if it is to live, but I never expected to feel this love for the person who is bound up with me in this. I love you, Lady Lyanna, with all my being, and I do accept you as my own.” With that, he dismounted and the two fell into each other’s arms.

“We need to get a tent up quickly,” said Oswell, “Or these two will do it right here in the snow,” said Ser Oswell. Lyanna glanced over to him with a grin and a wink, and went right back to kissing her prince. Then she broke the clinch, looked over at the knights and the young man who had been at her side. “I am forgetting my manners. “My lords, may I present my younger brother, Benjen Stark, who has seen me safe from Greywater Watch to this very place.”

“And my lady,” said the prince, “I believe you already have met Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell. Our companion is Ser Richard Lonmouth, a knight of the Stormlands, and as true a friend to me as the others.”

Lyanna looked at Richard closely. She had grey eyes that could bore right into a person. “You and I both are not likely to be looked upon with favor by your liege, I fear,” she told him.

Richard’s stomach turned in a knot. “In the end, my lady, my loyalty is to the prince, to the realm, and to mankind,” he said. “It frightens me what I see in your eyes. You are a true queen, even if you never wear a crown, and such as my poor friend Robert is no match for you.”

“But I would have married him, Ser Richard,” replied Lyanna, “If my dreams and the prince’s had not spoken truly. And I would have been honored to have such a knight as you in my lord’s service. It is a hard road we must ride together, I fear.”

“I will ride it with you, my lady, and defend you with my life and honor, come what may,” said Richard.

“I am honored more deeply than you know, by your faith in your prince, and your faith in me,” Lyanna said. “I will strive each day to make myself worthy of what the three of you have offered.”

With that Richard and the other two knights knelt in the snow, drew their swords, and placed them in front of them, and said in unison. “Lady Lyanna Stark, we pledge, come what may, to defend you with our swords, our lives, and our honor.”

“You have become a queen tonight, whether you know it or no,” said Ser Arthur.

“And now,” said Oswell, rising, could we please get those tents up? It’s cold out here.” All six immediately began work on the tents. After a few moments, Oswell tossed a chunk of flint to Rhaegar. “Maybe you, Ser Dragon, could get us a fire started,” he said with a grin.

Rhaegar smiled back as he caught the flint. There was a pile of wood Benjen and Lyanna had gathered, and quickly the prince had a fire crackling. Oswell went and got six small plucked hens from one of the pack horses. As he arrived at the fire, he lost his grip on one of the hens and it fell directly in the middle of the flame. Without a second thought the prince reached in and scooped it out with his right hand. He handed the seared chicken back to Oswell, who had laid the other hens on a spread cloth.

The three knights looked as if they had seen nothing unusual, but Lyanna’s eyes grew wide. “Your grace,” she asked. “Why are you not burned?”

“It is in my blood, my lady,” Rhaegar told her. “It is said that those of my family who are true dragons cannot perish by fire, though I have not made trial of it beyond the sort of thing you just saw. I believe when my ancestors rode dragons, only those who were true dragons could do so and live.”

Lyanna looked stunned. “There are no more dragons. My dreams say we will need dragons to do what must be done.”

“As do mine,” said Rhaegar. “My family has been trying to bring back dragons for this very reason for at least three generations, and I dread what may have to be done to make it so.”

“We will do what we must,” said Lyanna. “Mankind deserves no less.” With that she and Oswell rigged up a pair of spits, and soon all six chickens were roasting happily. Benjen was set to watch the chickens so no clever fox or other creature would run off with them. The other five working together soon had two large tents up and began carrying gear inside.

Soon the food was ready and all were tearing greedily at their chickens, all of which shortly were reduced to bone and little more. A bag of wine was passed around, and Richard drank a lot. He noticed Lyanna and Rhaegar drank very little.

**Two Promises Kept**

After dinner, Lyanna looked over at Rhaegar, and said, “You promised me a horse and a sword, my lord. May I see them.”

“You may, my lady,” said the prince. He got up, took her by the hand, and walked with her over to the three horses he had brought. The third one was a russet stallion with a white patch on its muzzle. “My lady, please tell me why you need a horse when you were riding a perfectly good traveling mare when we met this evening.”

“Benjen is leaving on the morrow, with his horse and mine,” she said. “I already am stealing myself from my poor lord father and ruining his dreams for me. I will not be a horse thief into the bargain.”

The prince smiled a rueful smile, but then his face got solemn. “But what of your brother? He surely cannot go home after this?”

“He means to join the Night’s Watch, by which all crimes are forgiven, including treason against one’s own house. I know my father. He will allow it. I wanted Benjen to return directly to Winterfell, but he would not, and so his story, too, is changed by what we do.”

“Many stories will be changed, my lady,” said Rhaegar. “Many for the worse, I fear.”

“They will, sadly. And my sword, your grace?”

Rhaegar moved over to his pack horse, while Lyanna chucked her new stallion under his chin. He brought back a jeweled scabbard, and pulled out a shining sword. “This blade was carried by my ancestor Queen Alysanne, when she visited the North over two centuries ago. It is of Valyrian steel, and I think since it was her sword, it is proper for you to have it.”

Lyanna’s eyes grew wide. “Your grace, thank you for your faith in me,” she said. “I will do all I can to be worthy of this gift, of your knights, and of you. She reached out both hands, took the sword and scabbard. She looked at the weapon closely for a few moments, and then sheathed it and belted the scabbard around her waist. “I always felt more a warrior than a mother or a wife, but it seems I must be a mother at least, after all.”

The prince smiled. “Whether in childbed, or instructing a son, or in the heat of battle, you will always be a warrior, Lady Lyanna. It is what and who you are.” He took her in his arms and the intensity made her feel as if they were trying to merge into one person.

He took her by the hand and they walked over to the fire where the others still were. “I see your lady is armed,” said Oswell with a grin. “She’d be dangerous enough unarmed, but you’d best not offend her now.”

“True enough,” said Rhaegar grinning back. “We need to start early tomorrow. I think it is time we got to bed. I will take the first watch.”

“You will not, your grace,” said Oswell. “You and your lady have some … getting acquainted … to do, and you are not going to be very comfortable doing it out here in the snow. I will take the first watch.” Lyanna smiled at this and gave Rhaegar a predatory look. Benjen, Arthur, and Richard went to clean up the scraps from dinner. Lyanna felt her heart beat faster.

She embraced the prince and she felt his heart beat faster, too. She took him by the hand and led him to the large tent to the left. In the tent she looked him in the eye and said, “I fear your grace we will have little joy in this beyond what we share in the coming nights.”

“I share your fear, my lady,” said the prince. “Our joy will be little more than what we share together. Come, let us seize it while we may.” Two hours later, Rhaegar’s harp was heard beyond the confines of the tent, with his harsh voice singing as softly as possible a love song to his lady.

**A Robbery Interrupted**

The way south had been uneventful and the party had passed into a northern stretch of the Reach. Benjen with the two Stark horses and supplies had been seen off the first morning before the party had set out. Richard thought they were now just five, and wondered how many armies and search parties would be after them if they knew which five people were riding south together.

Lyanna and Rhaegar rode side by side talking softly to one another, with Arthur on the other side, Oswell in the lead, and Richard watching from behind. Camps were made discreetly in the shelter of trees whenever possible and the party made its way cross-country, taking care to avoid castles and villages, except when supplies were needed when one or two would be sent to nearby villages to see what could be had.

Winter was less harsh this far south, but still a coating of snow lay on the ground, and some still clung to nearby tree branches. The day was clear and crisp, with little wind. Ahead and a bit to the left, Richard saw a faint column of smoke. “A crofter’s cabin, mayhap,” said Oswell over his shoulder. “Aye,” said Richard. “But I hear some noise that does not quite fit the quiet of the day.”

With that Lyanna spurred her horse to a trot muffled by the snow and moved quickly ahead of the party to a place where the trail bent around the edge of the nearby forest. Arthur put his hand on the prince’s reins and moved up to join Lyanna. As he reached her, she spurred her horse to a gallop and disappeared around the bend. Arthur did the same, and all three of the rest quickly followed.

As Rhaegar, Oswell, and Richard rounded the bend, they saw Lyanna, her hair flying, laying about with her sword against six rough-looking men, and holding them easily at bay. A small cabin was behind her. They saw Arthur with his sword Dawn knock the weapons out of two men’s hands and join Lyanna between the men and the cabin.

The three others rode behind the men and drew their own swords. “Drop your weapons or die,” said the prince. “Now!” Two men looked behind them and immediately complied, but two tried to flee. Lyanna chased one and quickly had her sword at the man’s throat, at which point the brigand dropped his axe. Arthur, Oswell and Richard rode down the other man, while Rhaegar ordered the four already caught to dismount. Soon all six were afoot and shivering in the snow, while Lyanna and three of the men faced them.

Rhaegar went to the door of the cabin, and found there an old man and woman, who came out the front door. The man had an axe in his hand and his wife had a sickle. Both of them had fire in their eyes. “It seems these men might have had their hands full, even had we not arrived when we did,” said the prince.

“Me and my missus thanks your worships,” said the man. “We’d have done for two or three of them for certain, but all six together might end up have done for us.”

“Is your lord such as would do justice for you with these men?” asked the prince.

“Aye, Lord Thomas, that he will,” said the man.

“Is he close?” asked the prince, “Do you have a garron on which you could go fetch him?”

“Aye, m’lord, I do,” said the man. “And he is only three hours hence.”

“Very well,” said Rhaegar. “I will ask Ser Richard here to stay with your wife and guard these fellows until you and your lord’s men return. Meanwhile it seems we already have seen to the hobbling of their horses and the binding of the men so they can neither flee nor cause new trouble.” At this Lyanna, making a knot fast behind the last of the men, flashed a smile at the prince. The six horses not only were hobbled, but had been linked by a line the end of which was tied to a post beside the cabin.

Richard grinned, and pulled a skin of beer from his saddlebag and offered it to the couple. Each of them took a swig and smiled. “Thanks, m’lord,” said the woman. The man brought out some winter clothes for his wife, then went back inside and bundled himself up. He went behind the house and came back riding a sturdy little garron that would have done any household proud. His axe was in a sling by his saddle.

Oswell meanwhile had ridden back and retrieved the party’s supply horses. The man started on his way west, while Rhaegar, Lyanna, Oswell, and Arthur turned their mounts south. As the party and the farmer each traveled out of view, Richard dismounted and offered the woman another swig of the beer.

Seven hours later, Richard trundled into camp, his supply horse in tow. It was dusk and a campfire was burning. “That old wife,” he told the party, “Invited me in, cooked up a couple of hens I had in my supplies, stirred them with some greens she had laid by and fed me what amounted to a feast. The lord and his men returned after six hours with the farmer, just as the man said he would. When they heard my and the couple’s story, they took the men a half mile back up the path we followed, found a strong oak, and hanged all six from its branches. I told the lord I and my friends were headed to my estate in the Stormlands to do a bit of hunting. He thanked me and told me we had his leave to hunt on his lands for the next three days, provided we left some of it for the couple whom we had rescued. I told him we would do so.”

“Then tomorrow we will hunt,” said the prince with a smile.

Arthur turned and looked at Lyanna. “My lady,” he said. “If you had not run those men down just when you did, they would have overrun the cabin and that kind couple like as not would be dead. You have more courage and more skill than almost any man, and any knight, of my acquaintance, and I know some very good ones,” he continued, grinning at his colleagues.

“I just did what any honorable person should be willing to do when others are in danger,” said Lyanna.

“The sad story,“ replied Arthur, “Is how many people faced with a choice like yours and with near equal levels of skill, would not do what you did.”

“Perhaps,” she said, “When all the confusion in these kingdoms is done, the prince and I, and you and we here and his other friends can do something to set things in this realm more to rights, so the kingdoms can be not only prosperous, but also it may be possible the people could be happy.”

“This is a pleasant thought, indeed,” said Rhaegar. “It is my hope we all may be preserved to do such kind work together.” A raven quorked in the trees.

**The Right of the Matter**

Four days after their adventure with the brigands and a day after they had crossed the Goldroad at night, the little party was making its way south, when Lyanna spied a rider approaching from the east. The man’s horse was at a steady trot. “I think we have been seen,” said Lyanna.

“Yes,” said the prince. “Let us rein up here, where we have a bit of high ground. The party took positions and all had hands on their sword hilts. When the rider saw they had halted he spurred his horse to a gallop and closed the gap in less than five minutes. As the rider approached it became clear he was a bulky man, and when he slowed his horse to a walk and pulled back his hood, all could see it was Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander.

“Ser Gerold,” asked Rhaegar. “What brings you to join our little travelling group?”

“My prince, his grace the king requires the presence of you and your lady at his camp over yonder,” Gerold said, pointing back the way he had come. “Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, Ser Richard, you are to remain here, and may make camp if you wish. We will be a while.”

His well-lined face was set. Lyanna’s heart jumped into her throat, and she looked over at Rhaegar. She saw a look of worry in his eyes as well. “The king commands. We must go,” he said. “Ser Gerold?”

Rhaegar reached over and gave Lyanna a gentle squeeze of her arm. “Be brave my lady,” he said.

“I will, your grace,” she said back, looking him square in the eyes. At that, with Gerold in the lead, the three trotted away east, following Gerold’s tracks. “What is this?” asked Rhaegar.

“The king did not share his plans with me, your grace, but your lady wife is in the party,” said Gerold. Lyanna began to be frightened, and put her hand on her sword hilt. Rhaegar moved near and put his arm about her.

“Be calm, my love,” he said. “We must face what we must face.”

Lyanna took a deep breath. “You are correct, sweet man,” she replied. “We must be brave.” Within a little over an hour they came in sight of a small encampment, with a large tent set amidst. Gerold made a sign and they slowed their horses to a walk. As they approached the tent they could see it was guarded by two men in Kingsguard white.

At the entrance, the three dismounted, and grooms came for their horses. Ser Gerold looked at them. “My lady, your grace, I will need your weapons,” he said. Lyanna looked at Rhaegar with a question, but he was unbuckling his sword belt. “No one save Kingsguard may carry weapons in the presence of the king,” he said as he handed his sword and scabbard to Gerold. Lyanna nodded and unbuckled her sword belt as well. Once they were unarmed, Gerold motioned them into the tent.

Standing to the right of the king was the small dark haired serious woman Lyanna remembered from Harrenhall. Gerold took a position immediately to the left of and perpendicular to the king. He unsheathed his sword and placed its point on the tent floor, holding it there.

Rhaegar and Lyanna both knelt. “Your grace, we are here as commanded,” said the prince.

“Rise,” said the king. “A fine mess you and your lady have created, my son.” He looked over at the small woman beside him and back at Rhaegar. “Do you propose to put your wife aside, son?”

“I do not your grace. I would not see my children disinherited,” replied the prince. Elia’s face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes glittered.

The king looked again at Elia. “Might I borrow my son for a brief private discussion, princess?” he asked her.

“Of course, your grace,” said Elia. The king motioned Rhaegar, and the two walked back toward the rear of the tent into a private compartment. Gerold followed them and stationed himself at the entrance to the compartment, facing toward Elia and Lyanna.

Lyanna took two steps toward the princess and fell on her knees. “Your grace, I am so deeply sorry it has come to this. There was no other way. From the bottom of my heart I beg your forgiveness.”

She felt Elia’s hand on her shoulders. “Stand up, Lady Stark,” the princess said. She looked Lyanna in the eye, and her own dark eyes were liquid. “Even were you simply my husband’s paramour, we of Dorne understand such things, and it does not offend us when our spouse seeks other pleasures.” She smiled at Lyanna.

“But there is more, my lady,” she continued as she took Lyanna’s hands in hers. “We are to be sisters, and as sisters, we must love one another.”

Lyanna felt her eyes get big. “I do not understand,” she said.

“It is not my place to explain,” said the princess. “We must await the pleasure of the king. I understand why you have done what you have done, and I trust all shall be well between us.”

Lyanna opened her mouth to speak, but Elia put up her hand for silence and Lyanna swallowed her words. Elia gave a rueful smile. “We will have time to speak at length, my lady, but not just now,” she said.

After a few moments more the king and the prince returned from the back of the tent followed by Gerold. As they approached, the two women let go hands and curtseyed. They stood and faced the men. “Rhaegar,” the king said, “Go to Lyanna and both of you kneel before me. Elia, please stand behind them as witness.”

All three did as directed. “Take her hands, Rhaegar,” said the king. “Not since the Conqueror’s day has this been done correctly. It is proper for those of us of Valyrian blood to take more than one wife should circumstances warrant. Though no Targaryen has done so in over 200 years, in deference to the damnable septons, we never have foresworn the right, and I believe the circumstances, and the dire peril that faces the realm in the near future must be faced by the fruit of your union.”

Rhaegar squeezed Lyanna’s hand, and her heart began to beat fast. “Lyanna of House Stark, do you take this man as your husband, to take your place alongside Princess Elia of Dorne as a true wife to him?”

“I do, your grace,” she said.

“And Rhaegar of House Targaryen, do you take this woman as your wife to take her place beside Princess Elia of Dorne, to be a true husband to her?”

“I do, your grace,” he said.

The king reached under his doublet and produced a knife. “Give me your right hands, both of you,” he said. Each did so. The king made a small cut in the middle of Rhaegar’s palm and did the same with Lyanna. She winced, but the knife was sharp and there was almost no pain. “Clasp your right hands together,” the king said.

“You now are united blood to blood, and therefore by the fires and the laws of Old Valyria, by the gods old and new, and by the power vested in me as King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm, I declare the two of you husband and wife. You may rise and kiss each other.” They did so, keeping their right hands together, and shared a soft brief kiss. Rhaegar reached over with his left hand, drew Elia to him, and kissed her as well. To Lyanna it seemed Elia looked sad.

“Face me, children,” the king said. “Lyanna Stark, you now are a princess of the realm and I so proclaim you. Your sons will inherit in order of age following Aegon. Under Valyrian law you and Elia now are sisters. Our acts today will be memorialized and placed in our archives until such time as the coming troubles have been ended and the damnable traitors rooted out to the last damned man!” Lyanna shivered at this, but kept her face steady. “But until then," the king continued, “Your rank and your marriage will remain close inside this family and the Kingsguard, and will not be bruited about abroad until it is proclaimed as so by us.”

Two hours later, Rhaegar, Lyanna, and Gerold were on their way back to their own party’s camp. The two men were riding on either side of Lyanna. Gerold looked over at her, and said, “Your grace, there is something I must tell you.”

Lyanna nodded and the knight continued, “All of us know the heavy price you and your brother have paid for you to join us in this journey, but I feel you must know the price our prince has paid.” Rhaegar looked over as if to silence him, but Gerald spoke, “Your grace. She is your wife. She must know this.” Rhaegar nodded and Gerald continued, “Princess Lyanna, I saw you shiver at your wedding when the king talked about rooting out traitors.

“The king is afflicted with madness, and you saw just a small bit of it at your wedding. He can be monstrously cruel to those he sees as his enemies, and the prince has feared for years that his madness would begin to harm the realm and its people. He has worked a long time with me, the knights with whom you travel, and certain others, to find a way to persuade King Aerys to step aside.”

“But Rhaegar seems to love his father, Ser Gerold,” said Lyanna.

“He does, your grace,” said Gerold. “But in the end a prince’s loyalty must be to the realm, or he is no prince.” Lyanna nodded. “The late tourney where the prince and you met was called for the purpose of bringing the great lords together, so they could put our king aside before he could harm the realm. But Rhaegar was rebuffed by several lords, including I am afraid, your father. And with the king present, other lords would not agree to anything.

“We know about his dreams that come true. He has told us of the war to come. And after he met you, he told us of a very powerful dream, and he told us the reform of the kingdoms would have to wait; that you are the needed person for his song of ice and fire. In this matter his father is wise. And more, you are everything Prince Rhaegar told us you would be, your grace.”

With that he hopped off his horse and knelt in the snow with his sword planted point down in front of him. “Princess Lyanna Stark,” he said. “I pledge, come what may, to defend you with my sword, my life, and my honor.”

Lyanna smiled, though it was a sad smile. “Thank you, Ser Gerold, for your faith in me and your faith in what our prince and I must do, for the road we must walk together. You may rise. I could not ask the gods for any better protectors than you and my companions at the camp.” Gerold rose, smiled, and remounted. Fifteen minutes afterward they were at their camp.

All three dismounted, and then Gerold motioned and said, “Arthur, Oswell, a word, please.” The two knights went over to their commander, and the three men whispered for a few moments. Then Gerold remounted.

“Surely the king can spare you for a drink with your brethren,” said Oswell.

“This is a delicate time, and I think it’s best I do not keep his grace waiting,” said Gerold. “Please keep the prince and his lady well.”

“We will,” said all three knights in unison.

“Thank you, brethren,” said Gerold as he turned his horse and spurred the beast back in the direction of the king’s camp.

“And now, about that drink,” said Lyanna. Everyone laughed.

**A Price is Paid**

The rest of the journey had been uneventful, and after about two weeks the little party had ridden south of the last of winter and arrived at a tower. The place was on a dry hill and isolated, surrounded by the Red Mountains of Dorne. Rhaegar and Lyanna were all smiles for one another, which gladdened Arthur’s heart, for he knew well the forebodings of both.

Once arrived at the castle, Richard had gone on his way to his own lands, from which he could bring news to the tower, with Arthur and Oswell left as guard. For three weeks there had been good fellowship, practice at arms, and discussions of prophetic texts the prince had brought among the supplies he had packed, interspersed with the frequent private times of the prince and his new wife, from which time after time they both emerged smiling. So much so, Rhaegar had taken to calling the lodging the Tower of Joy.

Arthur and Lyanna were sitting outside the tower gate sharpening swords, when the sound of a horse approaching caused them both to look up. Both rose to their feet weapons in hand, but they relaxed when the rider came into view and it was Oswell. He was leading a second horse packed with supplies sent from the Dayne seat of Starfall. But his face looked troubled. “A message for the prince,” he said.

“What is it? Asked Lyanna.

“Best to get Rhaegar out here first,” said Oswell. Arthur turned and called to his friend, who had been reading scrolls in the tower. The prince shortly appeared in the door and walked over to the others. “A message from the king,” said Oswell, and handed Rhaegar a piece of parchment. He looked it over and his pale face went even more white. Immediately he rushed back into the tower, and Arthur followed him.

“What is it, your grace?” he asked when he caught up to the prince. Rhaegar was horror stricken. He looked the knight in the eyes and Arthur saw fear there. “Father has executed Lord Stark, his son Brandon, three of the younger Stark’s companions, and 200 Stark men at arms. This will mean war! What can I tell Lyanna?”

“Get hold of yourself, your grace,” said Arthur, gripping Rhaegar by the forearms. The prince was shaking. “Does the message say on what grounds the king did this?”

“The message says the younger Stark and his companions rode into the Red Keep and threatened my life, and that the elder Stark was the mastermind of a giant conspiracy against the crown. The latter is true, I fear, but if Brandon Stark wanted battle with me, I should have been there to defend my honor myself!”

No, your grace,” said Arthur. “You know how important it is what you do here. You could not have been there. And if the message speaks true, the king was within his rights to do what he has done, and all the realm will see it so, however cruel the men’s deaths.”

“You are right, I suppose,” said Rhaegar. “We must set these kingdoms to rights! We must! But what do I tell Lyanna? She will hate my family and me after this.”

“I know this much,” said Arthur. “If you do not tell her now, and lie with her again while she remains ignorant of this awful fact, she will feel herself raped and betrayed, and she will not be wrong. Her heart surely will fill with the hate you so justly fear. You must face this now, or what we have done here will have been a complete waste! My friend, do what you must, and do it now!”

“As ever you are correct Arthur,” Said Rhaegar. “I will go to her and face what I must.” With that the two exited the tower and walked over to Lyanna and Oswell. The look on Lyanna’s face showed concern and a small amount of fear.

When he got there, he took her by the hands, and Arthur could see there was fear in his eyes also. “My lady princess, I have terrible news.” Lyanna’s face fell. “Would you prefer that Oswell and Arthur absent themselves while we talk?”

“No, my lord prince,” she said. “They have shared everything with us, and have pledged their lives to us, and without them, we could not do this. I would like them to stay.”

“Very well,” Rhaegar replied. “The message today tells me my father has had your father and your eldest brother executed for treason; the son for threatening my life, which challenge I wish to the gods I could have met in person, and the father for plotting the downfall of my house. Others have been executed as well. Lyanna, I am so very, very sorry.”

Lyanna screamed as she fell to her knees. “It is my fault! Mine! My prayer at the God’s Eye that the old gods answered. I knew there would be a price! I have killed my own father and my dear Brandon! Poor Ned! He is lord now, and may the gods have mercy on him! I have destroyed my own family! What have I done?

“Brandon taught me everything I know about the arts of combat. He and my father taught me courage. They taught me honor. They taught me to think of the kingdom and the realm first, and look what I have done!” she said between heaving sobs. “My poor mother! Ned will have to take care of her, too. I wish I could comfort poor Ned!”

“Lyanna,” said Rhaegar. “I will take you all the way to the gates of Winterfell should you demand it.”

“No!” shouted Lyanna. She rose to her feet. “No, you thrice damned fool, no! We are here to make between us the needed child and we will do this! We stay! The price already is paid! We cannot bring back my poor father and my poor dear brother, and when this tumult is over, if we both live through it, we shall settle matters with this king, and set the realm to rights. Promise me we will do this, my prince!”

“If we live to see the end of this strife we shall do as you say, my princess, and will settle my father and set the kingdoms to rights,” said Rhaegar. “I promise you this with my life and my honor.”

She fell into Rhaegar’s arms, and Arthur could see her blue eyes were smoking as she looked at him. “Take me upstairs, your grace,” she told him. It was not a request.

Rhaegar’s eyes were full of mourning mixed with astonishment. He hesitated two beats as he examined her face and brushed a tear off her cheek. “Yes, your grace,” he replied. Arthur had a sad smile on his face as the two walked slowly back to the tower.

“She is stronger than all of us, Oswell,” he said. “No one could be a better ruler than she.” Oswell had a faraway look in his eyes. He simply nodded in reply.

**A Royal Summons**

He heard the heavy tread of a horse. Oswell looked up from the greave he was polishing and saw Gerold riding up to the tower. “Well met, brother commander!” he shouted.

“Well met but ill news, my good brother,” said Gerold. “It is good to see you, though. Please call the others if you would.” As Oswell turned around first Arthur and then Rhaegar and Lyanna came out the tower door.

“The magic in this place must be working,” said Oswell. Lyanna had a glow about her, her belly was a bit round, and both she and Rhaegar wore sad smiles. 

“Are you expecting, my la-, I mean your grace,” asked Gerold.

“I am, dear friend and protector,” said Lyanna. “And here among us you may simply use my name if you wish. Certainly the others all do.”

Gerold smiled. “Thank you, Lyanna,” he said. He dismounted, went over, and embraced her. He embraced Rhaegar, and each of the others in turn. The sun beat down. It was spring turning to summer now, and Houses Stark, Tully, Baratheon, and Arryn had gone into open rebellion against the crown.

“Rhaegar, my prince,” said Gerold. “The war goes poorly. Connington was defeated at Stoney Sept – all the rebel armies came upon him at once, and the king has stripped him of his lands and exiled him.” Rhaegar winced at this. Oswell thought that at one time the disgraced lord had been one of the prince’s closest friends.

“My father ever is very hard on those most loyal to him,” said Rhaegar. “Who is the new Hand?”

“Lord Chelsted,” said Gerold.

“He always has handled the realm’s treasury fittingly and well,” said Rhaegar. “But he is no warrior. Who leads the armies now?”

“That is the reason for my visit here,” Prince Rhaegar. “The king has commanded that you return to Kings Landing, raise new troops and march at their head to face the enemy. Prince Doran has sent 10,000 of his best men, and Prince Lewyn is with them at Summerhall. I will ride with you there, and then return here to take up the guard with my brethren.”

“The king has not demanded you, too?” asked Rhaegar.

“No. He understands full well how important it is what you and Princess Lyanna do here,” Gerold replied. "But you are the one the troops will follow. The king has waited as long as he could, but you are needed now.”

“Very well then,” replied the prince. “We leave in the morning. I am so sorry my love,” he said to Lyanna.

She looked him in the eye and said, “You do what you must do, and come back to me when the work is done. Your child and I will be waiting.” She kissed him. She turned to Gerold and asked, “What of my brother Ned? How fares he?”

“Altogether too well I fear,” said Gerold. “He is lord of the North as you know, and he has turned into the rebellion’s strongest battle commander. I so wish he was one of ours. He has quite a bit more of your courage and daring, Princess Lyanna, than ever the king suspected, and he knows how to take care and wait when many an older commander does not.”

“The king did to death his father and elder brother,” said Lyanna. “And so has earned this enemy. And did I not have my duty upon me, and in spite of the love I bear you, dear Rhaegar, and the love I bear to all your knights, I am a true daughter of the North and I would be with them this day.

“Rhaegar,” she continued. “I command you, when we win, to see that Ned’s life is spared. If exile and loss of lands it must be, then so it must be, but I would have my brother alive when all this is over.”

“It shall be as you command, my princess,” said Rhaegar. “I sorrow for the deaths that have been, and dread the deaths to come, but all must do their duty, and I know I leave you in the best of hands.”

“You do indeed, sweet prince,” said Lyanna. “Conclude this soon, so our child, our son, for so I have dreamed, can be raised in honor and trained to face the terrors to come.”

“I will indeed,” replied the prince. “Let us all go inside so we can be cooled by the stones.” We’ll have dinner in an hour or two, though I regret to inform you Arthur is our cook tonight. However, we will make do.”

“As you can see, Gerold,” said Arthur. “There is no respect in this tower any more. None.”

“I am certain Rhaegar and I can assist,’ said Lyanna. “We will see the fare is edible.” She smiled. They all walked into the tower together. They looked up as a raven sitting at the peak of the tower gave its distinctive quork.

**Help Arrives**

After a passionate night, Lyanna and Rhaegar came downstairs to Gerold and Oswell in the midst of preparing a large breakfast. Arthur was sitting at a table watching with a bemused grin on his face. “We are not about to let Arthur make a muck of your last meal here, Rhaegar,” said Oswell over his shoulder. Arthur made a rude gesture, and Lyanna and Rhaegar laughed.

At breakfast, a feast of roast boar and eggs with greens from a garden, they talked over plans. Arthur would accompany Rhaegar to meet the detachment Gerold had brought with him. After the prince’s departure north, Arthur would ride to Starfall, his family seat, to bring back a group of nurses and midwives to help Lyanna with her pregnancy. The prince would arrange to send word of doings in Kings Landing and of how he and his army were faring.

Lyanna was in a blue dress with a purse attached to a cord around her waist. Since arriving at the tower she had taken to wearing feminine dress, unless she was hunting with the knights or practicing arms. As they walked out the door to the horses, Lyanna reached into her purse and took something out.

When they reached the mounts, Lyanna hugged Arthur and then turned to her prince. She placed her hand in his. His eyes had a question in them. “These are some of the petals from the crown of blue roses you gave me at the tourney,” she said. “These and those of them I have kept for myself are to remind us two of the love we bear one another in the hard days to come. I love you and no other, Rhaegar Targaryen.”

The prince wept, as he took the dried petals. “And I love you, Lyanna Stark. I will return to you if I am able, and spare your brother if I can,” he said. He took her in a close embrace and the two kissed with passion. Then they loaded the pack horses. Rhaegar and Arthur mounted up and soon were out of sight on their way north.

Three weeks later Arthur came around the bend leading a string of three palfreys, upon each of which sat a woman in servants’ garb. They were blindfolded. Lyanna, even though she had begun to feel the discomforts of pregnancy came out with Oswell and Gerold to meet them.

Arthur dismounted, went over to each woman, removed her blindfold, and helped her off her mount. “Why have us blindfolded, Arthur,” the eldest of them, a woman of about 40, said. “You ought to know by now you can trust us.”

“Indeed I can, as can the Lady Stark, Ser Gerold, and Ser Oswell’” said Arthur, “but what you do not know cannot be tortured out of you.” The women’s eyes got big. “My lady, ser knights,” he continued. “I present to you, Wylla, the daughter of my own wet nurse and who had a large hand in raising me, my brother, and my sister, with her colleagues Ana and Mim. All are skilled in nursing and midwifery, and all have delivered many a healthy babe in Starfall and elsewhere on our lands.”

“Dear Arthur, how can I thank you enough?” said Lyanna, clutching her rose petals. “Well met, Wylla, Ana, and Mim. It is my hope your journey, apart from the blindfolds, was a comfortable one. Please allow me to show you to your quarters, which will be right next to mine.”

As they went upstairs, Lyanna told the women. “I am having a more difficult time than I expected,” she told them. “I am vomiting often in the morning and feel so faint during the day I sometimes have to take to my bed. This is unlike my mother, who told me once she could go off into the woods if need be, squat down, birth the babe, bite the umbilical cord in two, tie it off, pull out the afterbirth, and start nursing just like that.”

“No two women are the same when it comes to birthing their babes, m’lady,” said Wylla. “Please do not judge yourself that you and your mother are different. We will help you deliver a healthy and strong babe, and will see to your comfort and health, both while you bear the child and after you begin nursing.” Lyanna smiled and thanked her as they continued up the stairs.

Three months later, Lyanna was mostly bedridden, and vomiting in the morning and during the day had become regular. This particular morning, Arthur walked into her chamber with a grim expression on his face and handed her a small piece of parchment. The message was written in the code Arthur and Oswell had taught her. He held her hand while she read it. The news was grievous indeed.

Rhaegar had gathered an army and taken it north to meet the main rebel force. There had been a battle at the Trident. Rhaegar had been killed by Robert in single combat, and the royal army had scattered. Most of the rebel force was on its way to Kings Landing. Lyanna picked up the blackened rose petals that lay on the blanket and clutched them tightly. She gave out a deep sob, but did not scream.

“My poor, dear foolish prince,” she said through tears. “The best and most honorable of men, always, even when sharper tactics might have won the day. Now it is just me, the babe, you three, and my wonderful nurses. We must make plans. I will come down to the yard in an hour. And now, dear Arthur, please leave me to my tears.” With that she turned on her side away from him, and sobbed over and over, as she heard the knight leave the room and start down the stairs.

When she came out the door into the yard, dry-eyed, with her face set, but still feeling queasy, and moving only with effort, the three knights were sitting in the yard waiting for her. Gerold motioned her to an empty rock and she sat down with gratitude. “Ser knights,” she said. “You have given so much to watch over a poor pregnant girl when the realm called out in its need for you.”

“We have done as the king and the prince instructed us,” said Gerold.

“And we know how important it is to see your child is allowed to grow and thrive so he can help lead us in the war to come,” said Arthur.

“And besides,” said Oswell. “Even waddling as you are, you are the prettiest woman here.”

At this Lyanna smiled. “And my thanks to all three of you, not only for keeping my babe and me safe, but for your good will in doing so. We must plan. Robert’s dogs will soon be upon us. Nothing can stop that now, and whatever he intends for me, my child is not safe in his hands. Is it still true that you three are to spirit me, my son, and at least one of my nurses away to Essos once the child and I are strong enough to travel?”

“Aye, your grace,” said Gerold. “We will make for the Dornish coast. Ser Arthur’s house will have a boat waiting there. Dorne remains true to the royal cause. But we haven’t much time, and until the babe is born, you cannot travel.”

“He comes but slowly, I fear, and painfully, but my body tells me he is healthy,” said Lyanna. “I have had a true dream. You know I have not prayed, except some times to give thanks, since one night at the God’s Eye, during the tourney at Harrenhall. I asked my gods then for three things; that Queen Rhaella’s womb be quickened, that if need be I deliver my prince a strong and healthy son worthy of the trials to come, and that my house and House Targaryen be reconciled. The gods as they granted each of these prayers showed me a terrible price would be paid for each, and now the realm is at war, the butcher’s bill is high and rising, my wonderful father, my beautiful brother, and my poor dear prince all are dead.

“And he is not the last, ser knights, and my dear friends. As I said, I have had a true dream. My own life is part of the price, and I will not survive this pregnancy, nor will I be allowed to do more than greet my poor lovely boy.” The three men looked horrified and moved as if to protest. She held up her hand for quiet and continued, “If as is now fated I do die, you are to spirit my son to safety with such of the nurses as would be able to serve as wet nurse for him, and find a way to raise him strong and brave, and of good and kind heart so he may be prepared and willing for the trials ahead.

“Will you do this, for me, for the realm, and for mankind?” she concluded.

“We will, your grace,” said Gerold. “Any child of yours will be a treasure to protect and to bring forth as a strong and valued person. We will do so gladly.”

“Your grace, Wylla is passionate about our house and about what we do, and I know she will be happy to nurse your babe and provide the needed woman’s touch,” said Arthur.

Lyanna laughed. “With such a mother as she and three fathers such as yourselves the poor boy will not even recall his poor dead mother,” she said. “Have funds been provided such that he will not be raised in poverty?”

“They have, your grace,“ said Gerold. “The king and Lord Chelsted have seen to it.”

“What happens if Robert sends an army?” asked Lyanna.

“We are on Dornish land, your grace” said Arthur. “Robert, or at least the lords who pull his puppet-strings, should know if they send an army to Dorne unbidden for any purpose at all, they will be facing 30 years or more of war, and I promise you they shall bleed if they do so.

“Furthermore, Kings Landing still is untaken, and Storm’s End remains under siege by Lord Tyrell’s men and forces under Lord Redwyne. It would be at least three months before they could bring an entire army this far south, even were they so foolish as to do so. And this is only if all goes perfectly well for them.”

“And a small party?” asked Lyanna.

“We three are more than a match for any small party,” said Gerold.

“If such a party is led by my brother Ned,” said Lyanna. “You must preserve his life. The children his lady wife will bear to him are needed for the reconciliation of my house and my prince’s house. Will you promise me?”

“If it is possible, we will,” said Gerold. Arthur and Oswell nodded their support.

**Epilogue: The Final Battle**

Two weeks later, dire news. Oswell brought the message as Lyanna sat in the yard taking some sun, feeling as ever faint and queasy. Had she ever been the strong warrior woman she remembered, or was that all a dream? Oswell handed her the message, and she read. First good news. Rhaella’s courses had indeed returned. She now had missed one, and likely was pregnant. She and the king’s younger son Viserys had been sent by the king to Dragonstone for safety, but his grace had remained in Kings Landing with Princess Elia and Rhaegar’s two small children.

But there was more. The city had been betrayed and the gates opened to the usurper’s forces. Kings Landing had been sacked, the king slain, and Elia and her two small children cruelly murdered. Robert had openly stolen the throne. And now his army was moving south to confront Lords Tyrell and Redwyne. Lyanna’s face was grim as she looked up from the message. Her voice was shaking with rage as she spoke. “I truly do thank the gods and my Rhaegar that I never was forced to marry that monster, Robert.

“All those poor people, men, women and children, and Elia and her children whom I so wanted to love! Cruelly murdered! Just murdered! For all the price that has been paid and all the pain that has been caused, I am grateful for my beautiful Rhaegar, who took me away from that vile road!” She gripped the rose petals in her left hand all the harder. “And my deepest thanks to you three and Ser Richard for seeing me here, and keeping me safe for my beautiful boy.” At this she doubled over in pain. She felt Arthur help her to the ground then felt him pick her up and carry her to the door and up the stairs to her bedchamber. She thanked him groggily as he placed her on the bed and the nurses surrounded her.

Lyanna now was abed all the time and her world had become constant pain in her midsection. She often wept bitter tears when no one was looking, but maintained composure even in front of her nurses when she could. The knights would come be from time to time to talk with her, but only one by one. Gerold had explained that with the outcome of the war all but decided it was necessary for at least two always to be on guard. Nurses not tending to Lyanna were asked to keep watch out of the upper windows. Still supplies continued to arrive at the tower.

The nurses were always there, with cold compresses when she felt hot, and warm blankets when she shivered. They had sweet sleep, but she only would take very small amounts to avoid harming her child. Her world shrank to just the one room; she had dreamed of ranging throughout the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, but now there was just this bed, this room, and her pain.  Had it been simply a dream?

Then one day the pain blinded her and she could see nothing but red. This time she screamed. The nurses were by her, holding her hand, bathing her face. Her skirt was pushed to her waist and smallclothes taken. Wylla asked her gently to raise her knees and open her legs. More blinding pain, her insides twisting. She felt wetness beneath her. A few moments. More pain. Noting but red in front of her eyes. More twisting pain. And again. For hours it seemed. And then, Mim whispering in her ear, “Push m’lady! Push!” And Lyanna did, but it hurt so much. And then the worst pain of all, twisting and grinding, and then wetness, so much wetness. And after a few moments, a wail. “Here is your little lord, m’lady,” said Wylla quietly with a soft smile, placing the new perfect infant on her breast. He cried and cried as she put an arm on his back, and for a moment, there was no pain. “My sweet, my baby,” she whispered. “You will be equal to what will be asked of you!”

It felt wet and warm beneath her as her son gurgled, happy to be so close to his mother. Lyanna breathed deeply and composed herself, though the pain was returning. “Bring each of the knights. They should see him,” she said.

So wet! First Gerold, then Oswell, and then Arthur approached her. Each smiled at the babe, and each wept to see her so. So wet and so warm! The rose petals were in her right hand. She felt so weak. Wylla came back from the window while she was talking with Arthur. “Riders,” she said. “They cannot be far!” Arthur kissed her hand and then her cheek. His face was grim and set as he left the room and started down the stairs. She was so weak!

Her vision cleared and she looked down her body, past her baby boy. She saw the wet she had been feeling. Her skirt and the bed from just below her waist on down to the foot were covered in blood. Her blood she knew. Too much blood. She knew then the fate she had foreseen was upon her, and soon.

There were voices in the yard. She heard dialogue, first with Gerold, and then Arthur. The other voice was her brother Ned. She gathered her strength, and yelled out, “Ned! Noo-oo!” she fell back on the bed, her strength spent as the clang of metal and the grunts of fighting and dying men drifted up from the yard.

She tried to direct her boy to a breast, but Wylla shook her head. “You don’t have the strength, m’lady,” she said with feeling. “Here, allow me.” She took the boy from Lyanna’s too weak hands. she opened her blouse and put the boy to her own breast, where the child started slurping happily. This brought a weak smile out of Lyanna.

“My poor, poor boy,” she said in a soft voice. “I thought I was so strong,” she whispered.

“No m’lady. Rest now,” said Wylla. Lyanna could do nothing else. She was so weak. The sounds of battle continued. Fewer now. She knew some men must be dead. She wished she could be out there with her knights, but then she thought about her brother Ned, so upright and so naïve, so like her prince. They could have been friends, and she could have spent her life talking sense into both of them. She hoped her knights would be able to spare him. “Ned!” she shouted again and drifted off breathing hard.

When her mind returned to the room the sounds of battle had ended, and someone was coming up the stairs. Were they coming to kill her boy, to kill her? She opened her eyes and saw Ned rush into the room. “Nooo!,” he screamed. “Nooo! Oh Lyanna!” He rushed to her bedside, and now she was wide awake.

“Ned! Listen to me,” she said. “My knights are dead, no?” He nodded. “Soon I shall join them, dearest of brothers, who was ever kind to me.” Ned’s tears came faster. “Does Howland Reed yet live?” she asked. He nodded again. “Good,” she said. “Wylla, bring me my boy.” The nurse did so immediately. She told her brother in a fierce whisper once the nurse had backed away, “My boy is a prince, a trueborn son of my own Prince Rhaegar and a trueborn son of House Targaryen. His name is Aemon.”

Ned made as if to speak, but she hushed him and went on. “That means nothing now. My knights are dead, his father is dead, and soon I will be dead. You are his only hope. You are a good man, Ned Stark. Raise him as your own. Raise him true and strong and brave. Though he is Rhaegar’s son, he has your features and mine. Give him a name that will not sound out of place at Winterfell. Will you do this, Ned? Will you do this for me?” He nodded. “You must promise me, Ned. Promise me!”

“I promise, Lyanna,” replied Ned through his tears. She handed the boy to him.

She said, “When he is of age you must take him to Greywater Watch. Howland and the sages there will tell my poor son what he needs to know. Until then he is your charge.”

“I will do all you ask, Lyanna,” replied Ned, still weeping.

Lyanna gave a small smile. Thank you, dearest of brothers,” she said, her strength fading. She felt her head fall back on the pillow. Her eyes closed, her hand opened, and blackened rose petals fell out onto the floor and into the pool of blood. Ned let out a wail.

And then nothing.


End file.
